Thursday, January 29, 2009


I am frantic I am coming unraveled My skin cannot contain me This tempest of thought and emotion It is every kind of storm It is the sun burrowing its heat through these temples and chest It is the rain stinging as it slaps against arms and legs It is the snow--with a cold burn--seeping into face and lips It is the thunder--seismic and roaring--quaking through these ears I am about to split Wide open A rupture--Thick and ill A wound--that has been desperate to spill Wide open Is this heart It will stomp its way to find its beat and learn to drum again You will hear it through its chest Calling to its lost land Heavy and perfect reaching for life and motion with sweat and blood dripping from its hands

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