Saturday, December 20, 2014


Dandelion orb, idiocy pure
             of no perspective,
                  life-giving, rain
                      on us less,
  we can't stand it: too much
      that asks too little
         we bask wrinkling
            our brows while
              the sun wrinkles our hours
     trundling our cares
         half into sleep,
            celestially bawling
      yardless and erotically imperative
        dreamed terror of the
            error we're born to
              like a kiss

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