the velocity of some fairy tales
bury the sense in the sinking sands
of some hourglass cliche
swirling
do you remember the feel of dry wind
blowing
dust that seems to stick in your pores
i asked her
without looking
gently she turned my head
around
laying a light finger on my chin
she looked into my eyes and said
you know
we could both be dead tomorrow
bit lip
figertips are cold and unfeeling
misunderstanding god's meaning
behind the rain
something wants to believe
beyond noah's floating fuck fest
like the christians crushing byzantine
in all this i seem to have forgotten
the sum total of a true circle
and the different degrees of spirit in
life
greyhound
sitting up wakeful
on hour 23
arizona is endless
as i reach for the astringent to cleanse my
pores
of desert wind
borne dust
she tells me gently
you think too much
Copyright 2003 Fish
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/51/12748 on Wednesday October 15th, 2008 02:53 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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