crumbled and rolled

l’hiver après printemps 01/05/2010

Filed under: readable — paperslightertext @ 7:16 pm

that familiar smelling
wet-black slurry on the back
of my palm

that similar slacking off
once the winter sets on
an aching to make

yet no mental nutrition
intake (requirements, anyway,

severed from the outside world,
tarred & froze)

you find yourself licking the pavement
the moment you try to abandon
your domicile, dormez-vous,

printemps cracks open a chrysallis
of past all bound up in presence,

sitting down to dinner in the burrow
feasting on meadowcreams
with the squirrels of your dreams,
et bon voyage le dernier vignt années.


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