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Monday, July 13, 2009

traceless

when time weary
one can skin a stone’s flowering
with scissors separating it from its foam
as its roots fill our mouths with moss
one can undress a bell’s chime
and confuse it with birth
and signing letters
the light inside a stone
can mix fragrances with wholeness
the whole belly can fit inside a hole in the earth
where stone swims in itself
before it is stone


everything dances where nothing trembles
when the bouquet of silence
winters its leaping memory
feathers in a box
decipher faint songs
from a street of trees
a pure substance
a shortened summer
abruptly pulled back to wings


that fire wrote nonsense
on the earth’s beard
and it was aged by wheels
dreaming of roads
before roads were made
stars in an unimaginable abyss
perforated by night’s
broken beings
thinking out loud


further into the panic
people emerged
groaning
in dark bodies
of steel that remembered
being bronze
suddenly clocks
have eyes
negation clarity
the all powerful
just a whisper
a muffled moistness
buffered by forrests
full of thirsty lips


there is
the noise
join it
said the sign in the eyes of disgrace
out beyond the grass
the streets feel a river of steps
on their backs
its a fortunate dawn
we have for our fire
and our comings and goings
that soak in
to the impervious metal that
we arm ourselves with
in order to walk from shop
to shop
when you meet yourself in battle
breathing in the origin story
ocean
and elbow
in the traceless
bravery
gone lukewarm

*

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