Monday, November 15, 2010

the distance between an intention and a bleeding wound, lines curve in sand, he tells me she was only 20, a fake promise of a pulse, glimpse an instant possible return

i'm just saying that to scribble any word phonetically is to claim a resistance
to dripping body fluids, outside lines of reason, an instant in retrograde blinks shivers

november turns quick minus desire, flavor of a general understanding when February lingers
the distance in favor of turning from one side to another, completely still, washed clean

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