crashing paper flakes
she was given a lighthousea donation, a gift an inheritance
to save her from ghouls of hair-raising jungles
to protect her from souls of the passing bundles of gold shimmering gold
little dumplings of hope and shovels of peace
all that was left was the still of the lighthouse
the crashing paper flakes hit the boulders
and then the door opened to show me
the reality that was constantly pushed at from all sides
and I closed it
daylight in the shape of a science
showed up at my most vulnerable moment
when desire was intensified by the crashing paper flakes
and the dumplings of hope were converted
into nothingness, somethingness, and
poverty of your acknowledgements
just now but only one 20-minute moment away
this very same lighthouse-moment boiled at my contours
irregular
and I assemble the same moment
again
again
again
you can not cool it away and store it in anything but a lighthouse
Poetry by i should
Read 675 times
Written on 2006-11-05 at 22:29
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