Friday 25 March 2011

Pulp hazard on the rocks

Butterfly movements
through the skin of the lizards,
a hard fire to swallow,
the curse comes with the question,
your current account.
Slowly fading in,
to the left wing
my heart blended with infinity,
the words just pointing at the moon.
Even when you don’t know
I will always be there
part of everything
the elemental structure
time and space an illusion
here and now.

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