Monday, August 18, 2014

Hastening Valentine

Right under the nose of destiny
I walked by I saw what a corpse
it could shape out of grieving debris
into a feast of steaming knowledge
like intelligent colors sweeping
over a secret beach
we lay there on the sand
right under the throat of destiny
the old guttural phlegm-filled sea
the grandma of our reverie
once a bright young thing
who knew what we were in for
with her children as our parents
and hastened to prepare us

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