Thursday, November 25, 2010

Cannibals.

Each runs wild.

In saying so I have no problem in saying that each is new:
Each is new.

Tear off the coverlet, the lime--it would've kept you from stinking...
Stinks of rain and

Traffic.

Each runs wild,
Less sun,
Less mobility of distinction. The hand
You draped from the exposed side
(in the fashion of the artist you'd been.)

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