Tuesday, October 2, 2007

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Bricklike phrases of faltering grace

Raced into the space between lips

Wide eyes of oceans distance

Broken records clickety-clicked in the distance

Suggesting

Over and over

A damaged mantra

An old tune

Trapped in low orbit

That we heard

Colliding in small distances

Placed giant hands

Willed into existence

Like yesterdays horoscope

Believed only what we saw

Objects lit by thoughts

Truths covered in darkness

Hidden behind shadows

Of our own demise

Hand tuned radios

Crackled out important names

The fears of nations

Overlaid our own

As lesser monsters

Were thought to a standstill

Beating them with our hands

Till blood dripped

Between our fists

And the pain

Felt like our own

That we swallowed whole

Instantly

The sickness hit

The greasy wave of fear

That pulled back the light

From under our feet

We ran nowhere

As if escaping from

And staring back into the mirror

To a face

That turned the key

In the lock

In the house

Collapsing like sand

October 2007

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