Saturday, March 1, 2008

Ache 16



16



worship or extract /
the pit whose surface
curls within it


as a mind fills the cup of skull / without
exhausting its potential


I will mourn for the peach-pit
and the fruit blighted. Pluck


miracles the near-ripe
colors of a human eye.


I will grow
dry in a wind variable and sober.





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