Friday, September 30, 2011

August

she kept her armor world
a world of tears suppliants
grieving palms beating
breasts breathe
marjoram breathe embrace
dissolving into empty air
still dragging out my life leaves
the slightest breath of air will
scatter visitors unlock her lips
and sing my one lapse
a hundred altars riots of
flowers set ablaze wild as
a top a hundred brazen
bolts and iron strong forever

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