Thursday, 17 November 2011

Tangle

The pen leaks all over the page as
usual ink cradles the dentures
pregnated molecular frozen rivers of
nothing this far in, far out this nothing
seen and sent and understood by
readers my stress de-valued unspun
into an ocean I cannot reel in or
frame this as is more garble than
sense, like life entangled threads of
thought, she is missed more than other
thoughts.

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