The morning wraps itself around the trees
like tears in a man’s eyes
Present, but not quite.
like the wail of a heartbreak
rarefied, oneiric.
Moist earth, the sun’s ass wipe
Sunlight smeared artistically
Angular, aromatic.
Shadows take birth, one by one
like wounded dogs, diffident
self-conscious and pathetic.
The day stretches its lazy morning stretch
like an incomplete death sentence
uncertain, yet unavoidable.
2 comments:
"Shadows take birth, one by one like wounded dogs, diffident self-conscious and pathetic."
wow.
These words beat all the words out of me...
They are so perfect they seem as though they always existed...that you only discovered them.
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