Wednesday, January 11, 2012

in order

let it get raw, let this forgetting
begin. the pursed lips
of a downward glance can't commit
to this second, to words, even.
and battering ourselves aspark, we circle
without pattern, the meaning coming
and losing, and coming, again. why
the black and white birds flock in order
we don't know, but a wonder, like knowing
what you wanted, however brief

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