Thursday, March 4, 2010

Fountain Out Blinds

They behold in their own
what they don't know
"This, is true"
off the rabble
the broken hums
of midnight streets
awaits the eyes and feathers
to that quiet
which sees all.

No diffidence,
no hesitence

Have I confidence in
pang urges abilities
to connect with what is again?

Queen urns
breaking through
the green of April hills
and the blue of oceans
with blood in vats,
we thought of mounting walls
but are cooling
in broken passion.

Halving lives.

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