Dis 19, 2012

External Markings

Born to the drown
of the mountain (to the

teeth of upper fish)

where four wrists exhibit
no remarkable

signs of grasping each to
each, no movie gloss

of eyes meeting, no end
credit glazing other

than lividity, that ooze

the edges of the flat
immovable rocks

a tug invisible
under a wet air, a

swirl whispering at
once about two solitaries

knotted black

in the blue
of borrowed shirts.

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