Thursday, March 23, 2006

Sketches of the Real, November 16

Left behind?
You stopped moving.
The world - a mine
you stopped digging.

All this gold to fill my pockets
to mend the holes around my stomach
but all this silver could never
fill
the gaping hole between my ears,
the giant cavern in my chest,
the channel down my back,
where my spine once was.

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