AnalogMojo


prose-poetry
October 16, 2011, 4:58 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

shake loose that goose that calls you quack in the middle of the night and listen as your glass house cracks. the tinkling of firmament is no less than an eight string band falling about in the company of

Elephants

that one, that pink one, my heart,

beats clay feet against sand bones;

the rhythm of a life lived between

flesh filled bars that I can’t hear because,

remember, there is no elephant.

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