Wednesday, March 12, 2014



Hold on tight: blood-internal jogs
its ebony-death circuit.. and the mouth
gives unexpected glimpse of new-hatched
curse and decay.  And goodnight, folks.

So little locks together in deep water.
We ask for rigorous radar eyeballing.
We ask for elsewhere and for coincidence.
Think of a napkin kept aloft by a breeze.

Profusion-liliaceous upon deep water.
Purple-backdrop prayer... suspended
breath-and-choke: the ghost-plane.
Sequencing of dark depth is grief-impossible.

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