Tuesday, March 03, 2015

not enough, ever

my lost children
in the tunnels
reach out

it is that time
and then the other time
when it all whirs
and goes backwards

towards the other place
the further place

look now look
soft as the dead hands
that stroke
cool and slow
it comes

over everything
little dark dead angel
watch it happen

the happening
beyond everything
that you know
and your mouth

in the morning
when the door
almost cries

think yourself
like oxen through the dawn forest
then never think again

yes, yes


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