Posted: Sunday, March 15, 2009 | |

wild bird guests and other types of losses,
mutely prophecy things that were then were not
'We are far, very far, also, from wishing to bind forever any operation of the soul'
I cannot push myself away from quiet

the problem with believing in something with a russian directness;
every leash cracked, every contract ended
I thought: to give you my unwavering belief was the
motion connecting arm or limb to system to source,

dried up, dried up, startled veins or mouths

fuck poetry, just fuck it
I choose to dry up, dry up


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