Saturday, May 11, 2013

The Subject Is Reciprocal


Ha! We at sixteen short of grace and long of hair
Unfurled our unholiness like a scroll across our faces
We wadded homeliness like a poem and stuffed it
Down the neck of a tall-boy we toted in a paper bag
Southern jasmine bloomed that spring all over hell
We died of laughter that spring remember when
We died of laughter? We lost nothing by living
Our bodies were just the right size for love and hate
Just like anybody else’s really we loved our wild
Pebbles and all the fish we caught and tamed
And taught to sit and stay and bark all over hell
Wherever we went we were always coming back
We saw everywhere spinning around everything
We made sunset and each morning come alive

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