Saturday, October 6, 2012

Whet Anchorage

Anchor cut
Frothing regret & promise of a pillow--
The past through hurt—

Discovered out of the lightness
Put velvet between my vertebrae:

The glands of a man are ill-built hands,'
Adept to seize

Put velvet between my vertebrae,
I relent—
                         let others gather your poses.

I am tired of rending
In the rind of your elbow--
A standby tree, snailly emotive,
Flexing thirst,  

Along distance whets

The eye a metaphor of toys,
Harbingers of gesture satcheled

Past hurt in the insipid nightbread
Muffining of the violent glass.

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