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Blog Title Photo

Saturday, November 20, 2010

If Silhouette . . .


If a silhouette captures a mad thought somehow,
     forget I said it.
Come, you and I . . .
forget how a baby's green harmony,
     under denial, follows every laugh.

Throw positive water in her waiting delight.
Why is the girl like that?
     We tried to impress her.
They were too bold with pressure,
Yes, down around here, one bitter glorious night,
     Grace absconded with her husband.

Look, orphan, my opaque soft instrument,
     threw me here.
So grace me.
Walk to perform, and though dry,
     I'm through my every fateful base.

My wife who thinks, totally meant Friday.
She's so arid.
"I have form, obdurate metaphor."

Do see it all, never use pride.
City's hell, who could have resented.
Brother we presented our time outs,
     as awesome wild pain.
Call for attachment at the mouth,
     to handle a reversal.
Character is time which appears:
     'When did you want your psychedelic review?'

His death had been lame,
A bad song over, it all came.
     Started to investigate.
Must peace, so young, paint dirty?
Until then, no aggressive passion could love
     A curious turgid festoon.
It doesn't sculpt, but carved space.


May 26, 2006, with Ona V, 35, 36, 37

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