bee-suitcase

By | 5 July 2009

sharp or heavy the wind
like essentialism wind translated in its mind
flicker twitch a regular fantasy

remember the name:
the moon should smoke open
a suitcase his
& no other

i can hear your orchestra
do you belong here?
your compass yawns

in bee-eye tenderness he said (and prolonged
days piled in the suitcase)

what i really want:
a map behind us
again the bibliographies
of stars

& the daughter; fine creation
three names picked out remember
her ashes diffused
on your lips white paint

your lover a princess i hear

i'd crack i'd mourn

the unbearable
could be this or this or this

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