Page 33 - Interim 32.1 [2015]
P. 33
Barely, with three fingers,
walk the river pick the wettest stone—,
Unfortunate miracle, Of course...all we did was calm our revolution,
Mile some time
Notice...
into the worn out room. a light that should be on
tree-bark bed.
she touched her way out.
“I want her to stay.” run hot air thru fingers,
turn our noise. a carnal kiss.
Then, find sleep in the withered
hasn't settled. Thought moves a say through tree light
until the last breath hums...
It won't be long.
Bring forth
His hands slip my back
around, among, across the shoulderland (all that is land).
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