Saturday, October 13, 2012

Driven Valentine

I language am
the empty garage
free of the car
longing for the car
if I photograph something
it becomes my toy
my victim my joy
when I’m on the freeway
I feel part of some great
piece of music my one
note in Bach or grunge
sometimes Schubert
weaving weaving
I wear a mouth guard
for when reality hits
which makes it
hard to sing
I language am
humming myself

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