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A Split

Nov 24, 2011 • 0 comments • 448 views
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A bark                                                                                                                                         splits the ground

    To form                                                                                                                             to be

        With leaves                                                                                                     that dance

                 Swiftly under                                                                                     the easy

                           Shadow where                                             you stole my sex

                                  And spread it                                   all over my skin

                                              Like pillows exploding, bleeding

                                                     Feathers      to      soften

                                                      The Fall From Heaven.

                                                        I                           Will

                                                        Fall                   Slowly

                                                        As                       You

                                                        Would  forget   me

                                                         In  a  place where

                                                         Semen  and verbs

                                                         Grow  which men

                                                         Can’t perform with

                                                     Out        a      dictionary.

                                       Your ghost comes in my mouth, light,

                          bare, as always, everywhere; It absorbs everything

              And I bleed more; I tremble at my weakness in your eyes, wet with

    Lust; giving a body that’s hardly mine. A fool, I am. I take the blade of the tree

Cut some poetry               out of me               to understand                       my suffering

                                                                     And  I      cry               

Also appears in:

Modern Imagination



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