Friday, April 24, 2009

sitting in a summer loyalty
and forgetting the past like
it never mattered, placing
new days as wishes, and
wishing each one to death
in the evening only to get
it back each dawn, my
moments that were
never there in the last
place, always in a differing
position shifting shapes around
corners that aren’t nearly
as cyclic as they are beautiful,
for what I’ve known, it has meant
nothing to each leak in my spine,
crossed ally, you’ll be the death
of a season, and welcoming with
tenacity and simplism as a new
philology that defined and derailed
many yards of train wire, name it
to keep it, and you'll lose what you hold
too tightly with fear,
those that claim an alternative
haven’t lost enough to know.

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