when shadows
spell, breaking
across blank
dismembered bodies
from behind clouds of code
& rhetoric
mommy-daddy-me
bought in currency of fear
. . .
the sun burns across the sill
take, pen in hand, and write
burning sun and driving rain
howling wind and bitter cold
sun burns today not tomorrow
break through, break through, not true
the pen is in your hand
write a new story
of birds on a wire
God on the mainline
watch it disintegrate before your eyes
and one small brick collapses
from the weight
March 2011
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