Thursday, March 6, 2008

poem on path to WTC

turning around away from the girl's flesh and physical beauty

into the lame coldness of glass and flat reflections

fierce emotions scratched into a whitely primed wall

dead on sight to feelers who know about the planarity of words

unanswered questions left like air touched by fingers

my mind's wanderlust in darkness lit with light in your eyes

but another opportunity to reciprocate isn't our fate

and niether did i know your wanderlust in darkness

just ghostly pretense courtships our vessels flow by

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