Sunday, January 04, 2015


With two quills protruding
                       from my tail, the feeler
          of space made blood,
  mercury paper a stillborn wall before me
     speaking is death under the vents of the mushroom
     speaking is death under the gills of the tower
     erotica blitz eyes covered with bookish lashes
      smile up tilted in the slash of a page edge
          remnant of beach peninsula follicle
                          glow fiber under the sand electronica

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