Monday, April 6, 2009

The More I know, The Less I Can Say


Night an evening hour
Money, an idea, an envied hand now
Swelled with dislike of
The smell of prizes
Braced against the teeth of life.
Dancing in the church
The mirror of air and the sound of bells:
A perfect third the band as a sketch
Rubbed to pay some last shadow
Its payment for the gift of breath.

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