Monday, May 18, 2009



the interval of country
seen high and in obscurity
while standing unsupported
over the portal of
an arctic kiss

each frozen detail
drawn as small crevasses
into your skin

and the carbon patrons
are awake, pensive
tips of fingers pressing
against sight
laying aside clear damage
of sky

the wingtip tragedy
slices turbulence
and disintegrates time

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