Wednesday, May 14, 2008

I'll go as far as I can into this night,
into these purple tree streaks,
these sidewalks broken by robot paranoia,

these yellow clotheslined blouses in a white sun.
and green chairs lined up beneath water.
and ceremonies performed by anxious ferns,
trembling,
like protrusions into the land of the dead,
the softest place in the bread was her hair bun.

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