Friday, July 15, 2011

Insert Idea

Glimspes of boarders
advance like suggestions
living like the lights of cars.
Now that one doesn't always remember
that something emerges for a moment
and breathes into the atmosphere
and that we
as we sit on these bleachers
begin like an undoing
the weather of a last novel
rocking on and on
half brushed by mud
half impossible like rain touching
the dome of twilight.
Is this old hat?
Insert idea.

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Ah, Sincerely

  At last it is self evident  There is nothing to put down But the clouds moving overhead  The dead stare into the black Spoiled and unmoved...