Monday, April 16, 2007

north (or if I am)

remember the infinity we mosted past?
it was your virgule kept out water so we didn't drown.
I am in the habit of having learned things.
we rowed and rowed where we had only sung.

rungs of the ladder remained wet all through the spring.
somebody's notion of a limited edition print
became the standard, and my veins felt held in place.
in places where the flesh seemed to resemble wood.

there ware ways that vines look wood if they are left in light.
to celebrate birth for an extended time is to prepare for death correctly.
she wore a sponge atop her head, just in case.
how many levitations does it take to mimic stasis.

I'll tell you more if we combine respective deck hands.
now there have been plaudits where ditches were dug.
I married a twelve-string and then I lapsed into a history of woodwinds.
one makes one's way and names it something toward an everlast.

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