Plain American Language

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

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

no title just yet, and a very rough draft...inspired by a line by Major Jackson

Look, I don't want the lions ripped
apart. The mere thought of harshness
garnered from what faces receive
me through the doors and hallways
is old, unused milk I can't open or
throw away just yet. Milk was
once something I loved, it rhapsodied
the four solid eyes of each hour
of the afternoon, it piled, it was snow.
I can't tell now if milk means, moon
or enough; if careful means,
Come and ride bicycles with me, share
my hand as we walk. It is uncertainty
like a claw in the face of much more than that.

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