Wednesday, May 29, 2013

lost between the silent moments

hand strike
fist enlarging
wakeful words
firecrackers
jumping up
smiling
you ran out the bar
shouting the girl with curious hair

employed witches
asleep in the room
dirty clothes on the floor
last night's meal
the moon was not hungry
Calgary on the phone

small white polka dots
forensic
manners on the nightstand
short clear bursts
eliptical
she would chase her tail
if i would let her

white wine
menthol cigarettes
perforated pistons
it was always something
about her experience
interpreted and perplexed


No comments:

Post a Comment