_______________________
TWA
Close to forgotten
Chance at daily redemption
Like ribs out of place,
A pain in my side
A need to set.
These brush strokes
Are forgetting,
Leaving sadness
Of shadowfiend
To wallow
In singular loneliness.
Alien body
And voice
Severed for the minute
Clarity on a subject
Springs forth
Like wine from a carafe
Dancing on tongue in july.
Soon I will amass
My army of moments
And honor time
Lost.
_________________________
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
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