Thursday, September 21, 2006


it begins more like a splatter than a sample, all over the room. unleashing. appreciate the suggestions; they might get you loosened. it doesn’t have to take to root, she said because of the brown spots. you gather me up like a picaresque and carry me through. I am brown here. I misread my own desire to drown. enough about the soil. it is mostly clay and compost. fall, first snow in the mountains. forget the asphalt, the tingling lips in the sun. you caught my sly angular noise like a pilot and flew. away. where am I. contained, ineffectual. damp with lacquer. when will we get on with it. damp.

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