Sunday, October 18, 2009

Collision Valentine

Thinking backwards
finally you come to the city
where you ran out
of moon ran out of self
at the end of alone
covered with ants
you stopped to writhe
of a million irritations
you unburdened me
you fixed stars but
who does the thinking
when you come to the end
of matter the end
of antlers frozen
in the high beams?

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