Sunday, March 11, 2007


Slip into the mist
here chill stillness
bleats across the
grim sleeve of
my hour, you, so there

shower, enzyme of sleep
plasma of dreambeats.

Join hands and abscond
among pregnant ideas
thrum of fir, smell of musk.

Iced with morning frost,
green pine,
invite my nose to dance.

Shrill as news of a death
mind awaken to
red-winged blackbird.

Junta of orange sun
stab the horizon.

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