Refuse/d words built into infinite forms of bodies. This collection is unedited; done in one sitting; sometimes daily, frequently infrequent.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

material/reflection


Sad poems are fine,
they invite mood:
a purple rainshower,
fog in the street.

The real
worrisome words
are in the daytime,
hard sunshine.

The middle of the day
is a wide flat road
with no past,
nothing.

reflection
can be dangerous
in full white light,
so my body fills the day
and I write by night.




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