Tuesday, November 11, 2003

almost bayed 

forgetful moons over it, the place, the portion left, the
dialogue with homing, stored fully, closing space, the endearment
and detail, times are missile, would the curve invite? time splayed
out upon it, arrested as scope forgets, as mind forgets
and all the folk, the loosened then are off, the stupid collect and
jury slips in degree, there is no peace in the falling, the moon congeals
factually, forgetful dims on the motion of stern
beaker of beer, the horizon of nature, hovering
still, practice in kind while sparkle of empty,
while forgetful, the home has its measure and telling, in
beat and broken fall, more lifted as becoming, slept
until dawn

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