Sunday, July 01, 2012

xetal llab (sail away with me-honey)

bergamot and feather-dew
his face crumples in the rain
lies down as though jet fighters

along the wet forest rides nothing yet
it's coming, coming
a drum somewhere

think of the time as

ash think poetry that runs down
from the penetrated

the tapped


that forms into a latex ball
that bounces off amongst the trees

that you, most of all, you, can not
leave without this ball-bell

this or that

that has now buried itself up
in the leaf moulder
broken down like it had never anyway

this song is not called

what is bergamot?
I didn't hear the siren
but neither did you
not after the drum that started
far off, as if

my hive my hive
no, no
I was having time

never in doubt
the Autumn leaves


[em dash]


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