Tuesday, January 02, 2007

new year

the things I thought I knew
snapped open like the firelight
held by the fly, the bliss comet
milling the open black
where one swallow unzips
snowlight, scissor sparks
and the incisors of the blue
fish that swim-flick their way
to dusk, the dart-in where
my heart blooms, again
and again, and the unknowing
spread like ink in the bed.

I wrap you in my hair and our
breath records the shell-shocked
silence flecked with feathers, our fur
returned to flesh --

No comments:

is this real?