Wednesday, October 05, 2011

Graffiti

This skin my page,
guttural blasphemy

on the radio
voices are melting

who would you be
fair, ordinary light?

double helixed, sublime
under slight scaffolding

you wait, an injured violin
chiming a century of travel

then your answer reverses
moments I can hear myself

_


No comments:

Ope--not what it seems

I woke up before my alarm went off this morning, glanced through the cloudy bedroom windows, and saw Max standing still in the middle of the...