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20 July 2012

Novels new


This book will end
my work of some days
meager collection of metaphor and simile
arks in story that rose and fell
shifted setting and by degrees
faded in strength.

You are derivative of other works, I say,
yet you will shine for some,
a fitting first for sequels spun in inkjet loins,
a child that will bear my name.

Silent, without voice,
but full of words, the riddle
I say you were formed in a thinking womb of months or years,

13 July 2012

Third rock


There is blood on the ground.
Every effort, every step
more than metaphorical,
blood of man or blood of beast
this year or last.
A boy's broken nose once
bent in neighborhood sport,
or a rabbit's full measure,
even now lost, forgotten,
locked in a dim recess
spurred once from predator appetite.

Drops or gouts
blood on this spot

06 July 2012

about a bus or a bad thing


run to me run to me
feet in frantic unison
a dry dark corner away from them
world watchers and world worry, our
illicit moment, an ill-timed risk assured

for your passion blinds you
to my reality
and so you are
or ever will be
in my mind and memory