Monday, May 28, 2012

May 29 W.I.P.

Monday May 29, 2012
Don’t talk to me of wonders
... gather fledglings thrown from their nests
I am too much concrete & fumes
glut of signifiers, dry
rot of history, bodies …
children acid rain refuses

they clamber curbside begging crumbs at dusk
the lush
equivalent of sorrow
scribbled out on grocery bags
                                    pound of flesh
                                    quart of nails
lance the abscess, drain sweet sap
in snow before the memory fades
& seasons change

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