Wednesday, April 14, 2010

after the game

after the game, came a flock of blue birds
riding on the white horse towards the grey horizon
as if a glimpse of sunlight can be caught in a net made of straw
so bright and so pure
the off-white so beautiful in my memory
the sound of an old wretch playing the tattered violin
and the onlooking giraffe sipping espresso

lust has been unbuttoned,
after the game

-xion, april fourteenth, twenty-ten

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