Friday, September 18, 2009

Too Much


Angel(incomplete)
an angel

speaking quietly

into your ear.

she asks you

a question.

you have an answer.

lips stay closed,

eyes shut.

she flies away

waiting for you.

you awaken

always expecting her

to return,

she never does.

it was no dream.


Settling
it has been a week.

books sitting to my right,

all the writers,

subjects that matter to me.

what kind of discussion would

de la Rochefoucauld

have with

Carver?

What would Hank

and Pinchbeck have to say?

Not much perhaps.

The night coils in

like a snake in

the throes of consumption.

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