Wednesday, August 26, 2009

each bead was moving away from it's center, but my heart felt a slight tugging back. we are two-sided, i told you, but the ink on the runway stains the livid air.
a mirror, he wrote about, a french dove, lucid dreams, a photographic memory.

you were a shortcut to the end of the earth, a ride opposite the tumultuous rivers, a rat tail wrapping its roots around our manufactured forms. our nails, crossword puzzles, and our hair, vines- tassels braided together.

a deception crept closer, german wines clouded our eyes and we felt a connection to the silence. you gave us honey, a lost song, but a place to rest. for months we waltzed together, her feathers clenched tightly, the wind demanding they return to the earth; she refused. "be continually built up, like atmospheric jungles," she said, but we slipped away.

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