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you are a body in a boat on the lake with the shadows of a million birds over your chest and you are breathing with them all and the waves want you like I want you and we will both kiss the tips of your dripping fingers stretching from your crinkled hand, like all of Tennessee in your palm. oh, how full of fog you are. you are a body in a boat on the lake with that shore covered in rocks, unskipped the plants unpulled, roots unslipped. but as your fingers drip from body to liquid the discs of ripples                      spread to me on that shore holding my own                holy head so little did we know                          (so little did we know) those ripples were not our own but instead the alternating white/blue of iris and cornea of skin and vein of hand and sky                                  (of iris and cornea that all go away                                    of skin and vein that all die                                              of hand and sky) and one day, we will find (beneath the shadows cast by temporary leaves)                        (that all go away our own bones, buried deep              that all die) under the roots.                                                                 (our own bones, buried deep                                                                   under the roots)                                                    and you are breathing with them all
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Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 9:18 PM UTC
A Body in A Boat
you are a body in a boat on the lake with the shadows of a million birds over your chest and you are breathing with them all and the waves want you like I want you and we will both kiss the tips of your dripping fingers stretching from your crinkled hand, like all of Tennessee in your palm. oh, how full of fog you are. you are a body in a boat on the lake with that shore covered in rocks, unskipped the plants unpulled, roots unslipped. but as your fingers drip from body to liquid the discs of ripples                      spread to me on that shore holding my own                holy head so little did we know                          (so little did we know) those ripples were not our own but instead the alternating white/blue of iris and cornea of skin and vein of hand and sky                                  (of iris and cornea that all go away                                    of skin and vein that all die                                              of hand and sky) and one day, we will find (beneath the shadows cast by temporary leaves)                        (that all go away our own bones, buried deep              that all die) under the roots.                                                                 (our own bones, buried deep                                                                   under the roots)                                                    and you are breathing with them all
glen-brunson
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Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 9:18 PM UTC
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