Monday, June 05, 2006


The brain cavorts too gingerly
On romantic bread. You’re warned.
These days a truce without borders
Gets you back grounded for a prison
Debut, overhauled to pumice out of
Society; concrete in a museum
Made of glass and so eroding so slowly
No one but the ingrates notice
Your sallow hope, the bronze demure
Gleaming in the toilet your great
Ancestors stored their hopes in too.
I put a rock in your skull so to begin
Thinking like a bobbing fruit
Rotting to an ulterior decision
You’re afraid to make.

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