Tuesday 16 November 2010

bits and pieces

holding her out like a little gift

i spoonfeed a crumbling kitty

walking
the silence
of the wet streets

on her head, a nest of dark threads

the 60 moons of saturn

in the centre of the night

my voice drops from my mouth like feathers

he forms a hard knot in my forehead
very difficult to undo

dark river
shallow depths

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