Monday, May 26, 2008

Tendons walk before You

The stiple
of sun on grave; split
between after and life. A
woodpecker knocks on a
maple. No movement. All
are dependent on a call, a command
to come up and out-- from North,
from South. Liquor dries from lip
and palate. New wine drips
from your palm into casket
mouths. Each spill intentional,
eternal.

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