Saturday, January 25, 2014

Storm

STORM

I meant to say something like
that the sky was a bruised peach
or

bent
doubled

crippled speaking of the
ordinary rain phenomenon

but I said nothing almost killed us
almost crashed the car
into another car “hydroplaned”

it could all have been over and is not.

I have no particular feelings
(this is almost a mantra, in that
I repeat it, but it offers no
solace, no success at soullessness
it doesn't work, so it's not,
a mantra.)

The theme seems to be that
everything is not these days.

A baby waving as if
swimming through the air

grappling with that sea.

The sound of her orgasm
a cat jumps on the bed
“remember me?”

remember me

hair a mess of floss in my mouth

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