Sunday, December 25, 2005

you talk to me

half the night with

beautiful eyes those whites gone red,

those shaved eyeball organs

in pinkish soft light, off

plush blanket, you did insist

- language steps into the

kitchens and bathrooms

broken-down on a different

channel in different states

I’ll repeat them till

you fall asleep



and carry the weight of

the mark it makes

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