Wednesday, February 1, 2012

shadow puppets

sweet don't be so
weary, sweet sweet
i don't know, my
brain is a
dull, grey spoon

nothing has changed:
the blinds are closed as
i closed them,
the mattress is bare as
bare and i am beneath
the blue blanket:

you were right
this sweater is so soft
it hurts
but i swim
in its sting
pheromone opiate

that is all right i foresee
no danger, boyo.

shadow puppets
are a language

and shorn
is just as well and
even better.

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