Monday, June 11, 2007

just something i liked




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.

Oozing ceiling wound