Wednesday, November 17, 2010


if in such an order
we are so illusive
the adorned cry-baby
assumes nuisance.
and while i don't really
know -or care-
about compliance,
i am left here -again- 
at the threshold
of defiance

so the cold grip
turns to rash speech.
and the speed of
does a 180
and begins to peel-
later, found wandering
"lucid as grace".

it's not wanted
or subjecting;
it's not cornerstone work
or disposable
and handsome,
but it fits upon the fork-
and we'll eat it just the same

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