03 June 2008

a loaded question

weeping from
an unknown place
deep in the woods

although there was no
tree within
the sound
falling by the darkness

forgetting to remark willow
or talking fire

i smell of lake
though you call me sun god
knowing once there were
fathers big enough
to be men

deafness is questionable
always
as are the hands that draw
dirt from small stones
shaped like teeth

i juggle the morning
cast smoky spells
throwing glass
that doesnt shatter

and you remember
to cocoon

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