Sunday, November 3, 2013

subsiding

the place where we will always be together is
rancid in despair. You can beat me
as long as there is no forgiveness;
it is a narrow spectrum.

in the the dream two snakes twist their arms desperate
to hold the laughter; it was me who was left with the weight.
I have been beautiful in the slowly
sliding scars of a glacier, that golden breath
held somewhere in the moraine.
it is a long walk



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