Sunday, June 17, 2007
Friday, June 15, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
caught nestled in the soft edges of the wind
something broken; something lost
this is the first, but there will be others
caught like a cloud of windows flashing
its the aftermath i suppose
sensitive and sallow each breath seeps slower saying less than it wanted
wipe away your mississippi tears my darling, i will keep you still,
keep them still if i could just hold it in my hands, small and round,
and rub its smooth surface for luck
then maybe i would know where to find you
it speaks its a thin line of soft focus
the thin underneath settled there and shifting.
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