Saturday, January 2, 2010

a thoughtful nature,
beyond
a forceful (or even hopeful),
greater expectation of polarized
innocence
to be relished from
a singing child, or
a selfish mother's womb
to be
cracked inside itself,
over and over and folding itself over again
three gazes
to be reminded, and bothered when seen a second time (after 40 days)
too much alone time was never a solution,
even when desired
by archimedes,
but still he perished while traveling through the field, with instruments
seen by a man,
yet!
we still weep under blankets, still we
encourage an individualistic view of the snapping together of grommets
and the fabric to which they are bound
we are a still spring,
a powerful unit of measure
but in the open air, he was still killed
beyond his intelligence,
he was bones
bones and atoms and bones and breathing and bones


(we are)

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