Wednesday, January 6, 2010

She's angry because I don't want to talk about things that don't matter.

These are my weekly governments:
Let us cut out silhouettes of my
sunrise to sunset
put them in a path for conversation
From when the bright cold licks my face
to when I cannot hide from ghosts who watch me sleep.

And I will measure the snowfall with my boot
squint through the glass to the white uninhabitable world.
Halted, hiding, numb.
I will run
far, or fast.
If for any reason at all,
If for one justifiable cause-
it is to breath
to weeze
to cough.
To salt my lips.

So come.
We can face eachother without the ability to manipulate
due to perspective
or alliance.
A narrating voice,
heroic and low,
will be the bipartisan scapel.

If your blood too barrels,
Needing to escape through any pore,
Through any exit from the entrapment of skin,
From thoughts, torrents of commodaties
voices laughing over garbage,
garbage with your face on it..
we will coexist.

believing existance is spent,
tolerably,
with knee socks in solitude,
pretending we didn't destroy ourselves
by a wood burning stove.

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