Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Skirting

Break out the ego cleats

my wife is lightning:

tomorrow’s surf board.

O stanzaic nation

wake the blue, brilliant

crescendo of French horns

anointed.

A free double feature

about Death Valley,

she eternals me.

In the lens there is a great distance

lounging

beautiful as a volunteer.

Demure, all nerve

the farthest music still audible,

we hail a taxi made of bamboo.

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