Monday, September 29, 2008

All loosely bound in bundles


Shortly after I died
My sister discovered poems
It sounded as if the streets were running
As sense was breaking through
Decades of arrogance between
A night ago or two

In houses unperceived
Not audible as ours to us
To counteract a knock 
we must keep apart, You there, I here
In this brief tragedy of flesh
While sunrise grows so near

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