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