Wednesday, November 09, 2011

ruptures that just go on

well bless your piece of self-control
the dinosaur-mouthed wife with a bag says
to the anger that even now the wild fruit
a shapely thing as of disaster and romance
what huge clouds what an evening and thinning
stark island costs from the shop mind you
it never makes a sound
everyone wild as coots what just leapt
such things
between you and me what fancies of falling
all day the erstwhile gunshots

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