Wednesday, 10 January 2007

7. Pod

As childhood prison, collecting colours
Scarlet walls, scripts of myth and legend

This is home, or someone
Like the river, upon shed bones

Nominal Dad, Mega-sonic negativity
Napalm breath, so obvious

Eager judgement, pale decline
Ill figures, like a pencil death

Creation, mistaken, under sham of hope
End of alure, or just what?

Creeping wedge, not named
She is nature, beyond any and all questions.

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