Tuesday, January 27, 2009

tree

there in the music of noon
he looks into my throat
diagnosing in a foreign semaphore
all the shit you been taking
he seems to say
your throat is backed up
you need a plumber
you are beyond the skill
of doctors
I will now recommend a good man
who works cheaply
with portable instruments
of light

there in my own waterfall
I am suddenly sad
as a tree
.
.

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