It's always so smoky where I live
Nothing seems to want to fly in by...
One morning, I saw a truck, and some guys binding and gutting a deer.
And the generosity of sharing--no
One was doing that.
They were, like,
Eat if you have. Enjoy if you can.
Love follows the trickle of love.
The dearth fits neatly in its own shadow.
If I wave away the fumes, with my hand, the smoke will unfold in its place--
A cleansed revision of the flawed first draft.
It's like a record of everything I anticipate for myself.
You--orange,
Tell me your name again.
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Homesickness.
I can see their ears pushing through the hair, as they sit near the sea, standing upright--
It's a plump
Scouring sound they hear on the waves,
Not in their own language.
Why is everyone else so heartbroken,
As if left out of a definitive
Confusion?
It's a plump
Scouring sound they hear on the waves,
Not in their own language.
Why is everyone else so heartbroken,
As if left out of a definitive
Confusion?
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