Friday, October 14, 2005


Oh, but was there nothing besides to relish
but ungainly moments
of slight and anguish,
but the wish-washy green tea
of five o’clock twilight
but the heavy lateness off every movement
bread-n-buttery heaving of darkening ceiling
and relentless tearing, ripping, rending
of infinitive silence?

Oh, besides, there was, but not to publish.

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