Friday, November 21, 2008

To Chris, Who Cuts

Now that the tide is rising
now that the fun's begun
twelve short years're all
we've got between the now
and then

What is the feeling of delamination?
Where do birds go at night?
What is the weight of dead feathers?
What is the specific gravity of sorrow?

To the unborn thinker:
If you see this bobbing on the waves
I want you to know-
As a blade of grass
I was not unhappy.
(thanks, Laura!)

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