Saturday, June 23, 2012

the dreadful autoflock

another woman's child there he goes
like the weather
spilling rice, consumed
by pipes and pounding internal libraries
oh the complications of this
no there will be no love
[love already, through fright and fog]
but appreciation only
no appreciation but
(how easy with one's own)
a grassless strip upon the lawn
from me to him
the strokes
that I dare not deliver
the overarching
of this is right
yes it is
but maybe I am not
yes I am
no I am not


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