Tuesday, October 16, 2007

poem # almost 1

Wake up in the morning and its a quarter to three
I can't stop dreaming cause it's too hard to see
The green and the white
Caught in fight
And I'm quitting the sequel before they bury the tree

Bring me a pitcher, carry my flag
I won't be the last to marry for rag
Under told lipless, brilliant right
Pebbles innumerable canabalize the night
And argue sweet nothings between answering kytes

Estrangement, we thought was the order of the day
But simple remainders of cool marble clay
Arake in the mind
Alabaster pine
Conformist mis-matcher recinds the allay

Shaking my foot loose, shaking my foot loose, shaking my foot loose all day

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