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Untitled (5/15/08)

April 10, 2009

something feral, something soft
is brightening on your upper lid
the timing, off, but breath in step
with sweet machines, cycling so

these smells and slips in slight exchanges
force my ideal to meet your wandering stare-
only to block it hard, and live it later
in a day that doesn’t render forms

but if you live in the world of words
knocking softly, daily, steeped in rhyme
I’ll play, but lack the strategy
you hold this one over me
loose phrases wrapped in subtlety
never fall in their right places

so I decay with arms eschewed
in favor of moderate graces
(should you learn to grow)

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