Refuse/d words built into infinite forms of bodies. This collection is unedited; done in one sitting; sometimes daily, frequently infrequent.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
III.
The breeze
is earthen and smells
like camomile-
those flowers
yellow, dried, and seeped
into waiting throats,
desperate for home
lacquered in honey
and bitten in lemon aids.
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