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

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

I undulate upon the dead grass
Me, that slithering thing
With skin and tongue
Moving as the sun
Peaks and wanes
And dies jealously,
and then Myself, ceasing
Under the moon-face
Me, made a crescent
In its pallor,
Waiting, waiting
for a story.

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