Tuesday, September 25, 2007

there are things i used to say

there are things I used to say
that I don’t say anymore



the loose sausage,
cream of mushroom and milk.

mash,
stir on open flame.

I am in the corner
on the floor

stroking Colby’s black mange;
looking out doors.

mid-morning breakfast
with beer is stark

quivering on the edge
of a cymbal crash.

I know this is not
the way.

not officially.
but mathematics

are only parallel
figures

and sums no longer
equal

crisp leaves that float
gingerly to slick blades.

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