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untitled (5/18/09)

May 24, 2009

you are a statement of the
ways walls can go brown,
cloudy with vines and substance
you wouldn’t want to touch

blasted and cold, this heroism
strikes me bleakly,
my weary eyes go, squinting in the sun
to catch your smile

landscapes go trodding down,
swallowing a memory among trees,
where light holds me softly as
you push me down coldly

and i’m lying
i’m lying down
i’m waiting
for a summer’s wastes and glows.

the earth is musty with the
smell of my sweat
i’ve gotten used to the way it
reminds me of your tempered rejections

my skin turning red as you abate my brow,
stealing dirt from under my lips,
only with the caution of
accident, handled fondly

turned over, i’ve exposed that careful moss
you’ve built up quietly
and you won’t stop staring ’till i leave-

apologize to your forest for my disturbance.

i’m just enjoying the smells and sun
but i forgot what it was like to gather,
always gather

my feet spreading the grass,
staining stones,
breaking the calm and chatter of leaves,
changing the direction of pollen,

that i might influence what blooms-

i’m sorry.
you live this life here alone

and an unwelcome visitor can scarcely matter
to the endless time of earth
you cling to.

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