Saturday, March 19, 2011

Lips Of Faith

I'll remember the day I crashed into lands unknown,
like a casually dressed avalanche
invading deserts filled with folk singers.
I expected to fall to ruin
with mud my only evidence.

I'll remember the arcs, the arcs,
funny little half circles
supporting the white of the page.
A strange reminder
of the flowers I never brought.
There they sit
waiting for 1 hundred and 80 degrees.

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