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Fragment #2

June 21, 2012

The line has been cast

the hook’s in my mouth, and soon :  air.

We’ve been swimming

here for some time  ( for all time?)

where up could be down

and the light is fractured and fluid

(we suspect: the hooks have been struck in place

all along  at odd jumbled hours in this maternal muck

our bodies in full collusion)

until the outskirts of freedom is reached

and the line shivers tautly-

and as the victory songs and the marches

start their proudest strut

we are pulled aloft.   We are pulled  aloft

and my tongue curls up

in my throat.


 

-3/18/2006

 

 

 

(some recent drawings)

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