Friday, August 21, 2009

dazed in ruins, the interlocking grid
you've given us all the longing we can mend
to bark-babies, canine sheaths, torn wakes
in knotted bibs, wings in trenches, oil blood
blade babes, sand in iced glass, rattle rattle
the chill climbs twin spiders spread
greased windows, healthy prints

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is this real?