Tuesday, August 24, 2010

sip star

pocketed fiction
drains the avenues holding
silenced might of the contrary solitary
pushing toward the wake-up call
of living

semblance circulates
positioning listening
to the soft hungry horror
of everything

watching as phantom dust
abrupts the quiet endeavor
ever quick to lash
against disdain


makes no difference to me
moment only
rests the sight
culminates the night
in growth
of ever new
essential

otherwise sunk dark
cackling breathers
search for harbor
to dump their
self afflicted
shame

I came
I came more
toward the quickening
flash great open
pouring of every direction
unknown foaming
round the crest of tipped
water wave, heave
every heavenly issue

stars hang in dormant extended shine
but once in awhile, they shoot out
blazing evidenced movement in their wake

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