Sunday, June 05, 2005

Alison in the Drawer

It speaks across the sage, a warm
braid that you let fly. The skylight
accepts the pair of us.

Just now, where a tight memory
drops and has you rake up the leaves,
is only one of three.

Let me frame you in that flaky light:
bronzed and distant like a whim
I've never recovered. Just unmade.

And that's my point about opulence:
tough like rock candy.
A facet that glides imperceptibly

between the equally dispersed
horizon and the day's
decreasing quota of work.

"the day's decreasing quota of work" --- hey, gimme some more of that decreasement! Though I suspect you've been busy, hence your absence. Welcome back, Coogee-boy.
Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?