Monday, November 29, 2004

yet another lhunch

and after the dead bits have blown
tears become nutrient become live
again when I could bear
to bear your photograph and skies
perhaps noticeable it would be no
fingertip musicalities tongues
masquerading as other tools
but all the flowers
apologies not even
proffered but that you
mitigated even your
excuses as if
you never
and I am after all mad
and in bed trying to go over stumps
(one of your wives kept a sanity notebook)
pulling up the roots of your logic your lies
grow to proportionate certainties this
your only consistent contribution
I said it as an aside I know
your eyes thus
sell it

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