Tuesday, June 17, 2014


I’ll write about the boat that sat up
Tall, in a wave, and threw me away to the sea
I’ll write about the storm that took me under
In the waves that
Pulled me up on the shore
The last breath
Of gulped seaweed
And pleasure
My death on the sea
I’ll write about taking my piano to the grave with me
So I can play Bach on the clouds
And sing with the choirs

I was too afraid to sing yesterday

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