You will not find poetry anywhere unless you bring some of it with you. Joseph Joubert

Friday, November 27, 2009

Unprinted II

That apple you had from Eden

Is half-gotten down the pelvis

Of your throat

I just left a paint mark

To trace back in the event of fall

When nests are younger than supposed

Not loosing myself in the dearth of crayons

Its when the brown Vitruvius

Jumped out the tangle of cotton

And drilled in me fireflies

And a stark song hacked of his trunk.

Its when silence drummed aloud

The seven symphonies of sin

And the bed whistled

at Pleasure walking down..

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