Tuesday, 25 January 2011

alone all



fear of felt & wooden eyes

security

traditional

the indexer’s memories anticipate

in a space
little fowls
all alone
on a gate
in a wind
blowing down
them down
great cities made of skin

disease

once embraced & the outside
upon them

their love worldless words unceasing

*

shot-through > the essay
wild & croaking
display a tongue
ramp of ice <
words in wordlessnesses
our best frocks
flapping

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