Worlds without end the emptiest parts of the life span crows and ravens prey on frozen, hungry brown bears as if it could smash through solid rock an eye on some freakist, million-to-one
Thursday, August 11, 2011
he held up a white flash
from the tongue of a tortoise
the light from a barn was a length
of 75 feet, blinding the sight of the land
a separate piece kept in a jar,
his body a high ornament
advertising the untouchable
strength of altered DNA
he came over the rubble heaps
with a straining hardon
beneath the leather fake weight
of a political bible
spoke nonsense into the news
paper lined with trashcans
2 kids of pure teenage sex
frozen in captured ecstasy
the vast expanded territory
our ancient people used to call an icebox.
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