Thursday, 17 March 2011


One day we shall break this looking glass
and smear our new mosiac onto pitted concrete walls
With the ruby blood from open hands
Crunching glass fragments into place,transparent lizard incisors
Bring this tableau above the surface into flesh
Choosing to break the unchallenged air
And split the distance between.
We beat the nut against the rock until the orange flesh hangs free
Juice running down our chins
And grin as a drop drip splashes on our open toes
Webs of effect bound with near invisible thread bring our clumsy hearts to death
A certain close of business unless
Our art returns to resurrect
Unpicking, one thread at a time, with the delicate dripping tip, until those silk chains, useless, slip
vulnerable into the dust
Our fingers meet, suddenly free, in the jagged refraction, the play of roles sung into distraction, No time for trivia time no object in tension
Creating, tongues heavy happy waiting for the refreshment lapping at their shore
A shard of crystal sand cuts a whole in my world and you pull another through
A spectrum enveloping the whole we term seperate
A lie so great it exposes our truths

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