Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Mother with Daughter


There is an interruption being built within the poememptying my bookto drown the addictionthe clean
daypacked a lunchkeeps more of the work in the presentcontinuious presentround mouthneither
the color of wine or waterorators, lovers, and funeralsrain in a dreamhands love youautotelic
The child is a little youyou holding her legs raisedcoupled under your armsroundedoutside of youher
headnestledunder your chinlong locks of hairone backcurvedback
and you will become someone completely foreign to your self
at

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