Friday, March 29, 2013

one in the same

it is the easier       clench
holding onto the dotted line

fumbling checkeredly
                                   yet attainable


a mutual darkness

shared only by an unclenching

                    you                 are your own backbone

in the latter

and on it
leading towards what can only be

tallied vases on the floor

dripping 'you could have beens'

further unclenching

to the tune of Miles    the second

    And only one is marked

the extruded bones of
old quills

quailing exuberant lies
that taste like summer
        and blow like fall

beckoning us to

follow their given pathway until its belly
is cleaned

yellow droplets on the floor.

or let go let go let go

and follow no one
leading nowhere

making postcards in post script
you will see

it will be the same and it could be different

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