december 1, 2008:
it is cold outside, and i am thinking of a book.
how can backs bent straighten
untouched is his tear, it is open
bent and broken, right over unspilled
the coffee beans are dissolved and
how can cried creeds remain
against the cool of insecurity
of airplanes crashing in mid freeze
winter cold and the orange fray and
how can thoughts of thinking unravel
when mysteries within themselves
are confounding conundrums,
i dream, i think, of you.
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