Whip and Tongue

By | 31 July 2009

There's no comparison, I know, but sometimes
it's not enough, I lick the underside
to get a taste of how the other half lives;
the salt rising to the surface.

It's not enough, I lick the underside
to pirate, treasure, flag and farm
the salt rising to the surface,
heart voided, albeit briefly,

to pirate, treasure, flag and farm,
words stooked, hand-tied, and lined in rows,
heart voided, albeit briefly,
a silent song, approaching the throb within,

(words stooked, hand-tied and lined in rows)
hums its music, just as slowly:
a silent song, approaching the throb within.
A hungry stethoscope, tucked here and there,

hums its music, just as slowly,
to get a taste of how the other half lives.
A hungry, stethoscope, tucked here and there –
there's no comparison, I know, but sometimes-

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