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Sunday Scars/Honey

October 31, 2012

Fallen denim,
a chime is broken by choice of light.
A home for keeping your ashes’
slow eviction under
congealed pine.

Tone for atonement,
even as this quiet brings about
the greater warmth,
your limbs are screaming.

Time is asking us
to lay our clay against the mountain,
and tonight
I’m all for taking up requests.

One Comment leave one →
  1. November 1, 2012 4:38 pm

    I’ve been reading this off and on all afternoon. It is close yet mysterious, and its chief virtue is that it successfully evades any kind of cognitive sense — making its deeper levels somehow richer.

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