Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Shimmer Clips

Fall like contusions of blossom rich burdens
Remember that time

The incisors clipped a finger off
The door clipped off this voice, that voice
From all the hallways long growth

Then there were shadows longer like ghosts
Of someone, of the finger clawing her

Breath back to bonnet the air
To the fall flower in purple shade

Like the bruise marching up from the

Light edges out to make early some catastrophe
Of thinking.

I felt ok for the length of a sunset
And then the doors closed.

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