Sunday, September 12, 2010


you slide through my fingers like
grains of rice, pearly seeds
sinking into rich soil to create
speckled shoots that spell out
baggage, which will not be
contained within photo albums
and ticket stubs and birthday

i watch us burn out and rub
my fingers in the wax to create
printed ships that bob and
distintegrate without a trace
and in my mind I trace the oil
spill rainbow ripples that flow
outward from the

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