eraserhereraseI have tried everything, really. You cannot mark my frustration. The damn thing will not drink my Water, it will not show it’s eyelashes In the sunlight-eraserhererase
No, it is no use.
The more words I shove down my throat, An attempt to coax the will out- to trace The pattern to the backs of my fingers, Learn without a doubt or scratched surface Within my mind the more the clock gears Rust over, the more your voice turns into Another dull stone at the bottom of a Wishing well.
I’ve tried ribbons and lace, I’ve tried covering the d
this is why(This is why--)this is why
on and on, the bone and glow of stars above St Paul at summer’s end, restlessly among the birds that bend the trap lines (the electricity, the cars) the dark sky, moist and black, where satellites pulse and unbranch their feathers (a light in the branches). a metaphor for hearts: this city, the lack
and the spilling over, the strangers, the oil, the saints, the blades laid open above the sky,
the tree heads broken beneath the soil, and on and on, and on and on, these moonwhite eyes.
(--why writers write, for what are
by `Gwarf
by *gunnmgally
cretin[[
No More.
No Less.
--
We Shall See
--
We Shall See
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