Monday, December 19, 2011

Gone

Dreams
of apocalypse
of apology

turn this sheet:
winds are witchy
twitch in tantrum

these sorries--base
and bloodless
  yet seduce

to always elsewhere
arrivals; hearts
apart from here

December--lucent and lost
is patterned frosts
and year's finish

_

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the hits keep coming

I worked in the garden for six hours straight, with Max and Huck for company now and again, because I could not bear to be around the radio ...