Sunday, October 14, 2007

talking, her lips, are eyes are body

minor aches today are
likely to pay off
handsomely tomorrow
-fortune cookie

this pertains to the
heart, the deer
in
the woods, the
wisp of smoke
the
hidden one,
i know the owl, has
spoken all night
on the vicious
and obsolete deaths head
the canny mushroom filled
with the potent mouse
the cloud stuccoed to the
roof
of the critics mouth
it is spoken from
the branch, as if
it where an orange
ledge
the recipe for this
and many other catastrophes, hard
as the wildebeest
screams, even harder
the side walk ends
in and empty field
near a water park
and a casino.

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