By | 28 November 2006

Music is the calm of a bracelet, girdle, helmet
inside words don't matter
I've found no terror in the package the song contains
there's a type of blue it resembles, one not grown ancient
the patina was freedom or something resembling the ability to finish the joke
they call for calm – you must give it up
standing on the platform with the sick trains
there are laws all around me
and the wind and the road, what of them?

This entry was posted in 27: GENERATION OF ZEROES and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Related work:

Comments are closed.