Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Finding (poem)



lucky to have known anyone at all:
even though they barely linger now: watery ghosts dripping: I hear the evaporation of quitting lapping. up. their rapid puddles. this tiny, bare hermit-- scurries: into the palm. of recuperation. the pain. is. crack- ing the shell. and all that is stripped and grieved hisses: listen-- for the first time: to the undulation of guts charging and sobbing—


the hermit recovers: the shell is cast off: the cavity booms crimson: love loses, but love never gives up the hope of loving until the day that love finally wins.

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