Sunday, November 4, 2012


When I care, my body
cringes like a blossom on
rewind, and

"What I Once Knew"
is a two-day
train ride away.

We cannot help it that
love is
love is
love, we simply

reduce the sweeter hours to
a poultice, slap
it on our chests

to release the black stuff,

cough it all up
until we are again

the blue milk of the newly born,
soft with mycelium

and somehow eyes
as shiny as a destination penny,

heads or tails.

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