Monday, October 27, 2014


Symbiotic days of Martian freedom
     never to boomerang
          smitten blood-dark by three
            and then four forms of consciousness,

    rebounded only from birth
           and the garaged head,
       the carefully kept
           ways of being
                  about to shatter.

 My distant brother, cousin of
      the plague that strew me--pride
           flush out my emptiness,
              if you dare--I'm
                powerfully half-here,
            on the fading line we stagger.

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