Monday, July 18, 2011


lightning at my fingertips,
which fills my whole body
as an urn
is filled with ash or water.
then spread me out-
give me to the
wind- empty my mouth
of this useless language
and hang my clothes to the side.
big ocean-
youve grown so old doing nothing
but the same old rolling,
being a tide sometimes,
being cold killers other times. 

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