Friday, January 11, 2013

the wide sneer of motorcycles

black, lank, cool, the enticing cloud
talks across the parklands and wires
its shaven participles, its dogs and damage
requited briefly by some gust and thrust
[we continue our extracts] the reader is
as always in complete innocence
I want to change, it says or does not
say, a middle child, I met, to learn more
immaculately dressed, there on the floor
as a baby a baby

they were grateful
she had started having accidents


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