Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Tired sleeping eyes closed

I can type while the stars falter--
utter (eventual) desolation-mixture,
two men walking solitary
on faded street lit night,
I'm stories above and bodiless-
emptiness leeching from cold bones;
there's a beautiful burst, a terrible
peculiarity by the corner market,
baking bread in spanish hovel 25c-

kiss kiss ambivalent night-time lullaby bliss
tired-world dog on sidewalk sleeping sadness
cradled in flour, butter airy mess

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