with what you had in your hands was simply
an ellipsis to emptiness. Hands can only carry
very little weight.
and to have been caught in a virulent string
of your Decembering noontime air – was it,
just birds spry and singing or was it
a wreathe of girls surrounding the *****
back to how it was to create light out
of primitive engines?
once it capitalizes, we are caught in this
small circle. often retained, the detritus of
such duel: once ripples are May and
initialed the reprise of springtime,
yet here we are only tropics, and cancer,
and the heat is too much as to bear
charge, your tired, sleuthing dog Django.
rasp for the lift, was it before the collapse
when both a yawn and a dance trembled
into /stillness/
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
with what you had in your hands was simply
an ellipsis to emptiness. Hands can only carry
very little weight.
and to have been caught in a virulent string
of your Decembering noontime air – was it,
just birds spry and singing or was it
a wreathe of girls surrounding the *****
back to how it was to create light out
of primitive engines?
once it capitalizes, we are caught in this
small circle. often retained, the detritus of
such duel: once ripples are May and
initialed the reprise of springtime,
yet here we are only tropics, and cancer,
and the heat is too much as to bear
charge, your tired, sleuthing dog Django.
rasp for the lift, was it before the collapse
when both a yawn and a dance trembled
into /stillness/
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