Thursday, May 27, 2010

Proposition

A current pushes under my skin, nudges upward.
If I bite through, I can resurrect it
see it rustle the embers -- a hieroglyphic of heart with a faux rainbow shun past clouds and twilight gases, near the stars, though not sought enough.

Do I fan or foam?
Feast or feign...?

Another night picture to canvas the moon.

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