Saturday, August 11, 2007

Lime Night Life Light

Ah, back to the hammock

cold paws, correct breathing

shoulders relaxed
writing in bed, flowers
scattered around
my dark shape
innumerable dark shapes
under an empty sky
full of fluttering
whose white noise fills up the valley
called to my reading
my lime night life light
a babbling brook of half-heard ideas
I roam, hourless,
over the mornings and afternoons
of possible lives not lived
and possible patterns
of impossible sciences

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