a margin you smoothed
with your hand
territorial drifts; we would recluse
all serious, fragment
in the rafters a voice
breaking down into thirds, a tree
branches mud & a nest
the second straw-cut
the city you realize
, a primacy, bare
successful, so cold
& explosive
question you
& you are
a horizon you smoothed
pigment-fresh
from boiled your blood
who have given up every
, reconciled a house
a small wooden breath
through a break
Monday, May 25, 2009
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