Plain American Language

I cut a sliver/of WC William's finger
and placed it inside/my philosophy...

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

imagine every other stanza is tabbed over a tad...also the prompt was "Who are you?"

Walking down the hallways
of Longmeadow Street
mythologies of autumn
and scarves like time around my neck
winter is passing and
there is another six inches.

Wind and violins
orchestras stoke that
flue inside the living room:
empty save constellations
of fires unused or
passed--where is the
synaptic drive
where are we going?

Ancient myths like
stars like finding, telling:
this is an island this
hand holding mine, this,
mine. Winter again
and another six inches
fill the coffee cup.

Open city, love. Open
city holding mine
though when it breaks, it
breaks holding cities
holding mine: warm
full like quick cups
of coffee

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