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Letter #29

June 16, 2012

The bed is a marsh.

I acted without intention

and somehow found myself where I was needed;

your mouth opened with your body,  I swam

smoothly past its riverbanks,  side-stroking   to the sea.


Now, here is a string between two cans.

Love is mundane

wears dirty jeans and chews gum

the boy  writes her a poem, makes her   into a poem

everything happens  for  a season.


One skin at a time

I peel  son,brother, lover, father, husband,


until the wind scatters  my bones for futures-

until the acid in the rain bleaches what  remains

down the gutters and  I stand

shaking  on a string 

strung  between your eyes.






( some recent drawings )

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. June 18, 2012 7:35 am

    Reblogged this on Vague Magazine.

  2. June 22, 2012 4:32 pm

    thanks for finding it interesting

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