9 February, 2013

Saturday February 9, 2013 § Leave a comment

blond dreams are here again
against broken weather
& the small, crisp patrol

    scrim of tides
    lap
    foolscap moorings

a swab of whiskey penance
to disguise
the high-wire act of leaving our bleary mission

what of what is left

only the starbright path
rich with consequence

as the morning slowly narrows with rain
& the throat fills with stone

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