[from: the Loss Lieder]
light
that bit of vision not fair on fire against the rocks
i
heard bells rolling thru some words, like buffalo over those 18 wheelers
up
in a volcano details from its power now a lake
like
an eye then the thought then a touching
as no;
the
yattering plunge face down into their denied tears etc.
wait
to pin it all at a dizzier tilt thieves of locked lives—
leaves
run, you know, sort of a curdled electronic ink thru cold
this
then sing that rack in an envious to the yuck factor
rip
just what you sew
i
get going this way till a method works
floating
in from a dawn when only singing of insomnia burns
a
ringing in an ear fetch that old sort of
grey
glow convergence between posts
guarded
by a who me? by a 99, an almost .. post america
post
europe as flourishing, post-immediate gone thru
as
lava roils verbs with a holiday reel in a closer distance
different
versions of this poem have been written at different times
for
different people who twist slow in their various ways
Interesting poem. You might find additional inspiration by visiting www.strengtheningbrandamerica.com
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