Monday, October 17, 2011

What war poets capture, and what they leave behind


Careful words. What that the bird could split seeds and twist licorice trimmings, opposite a window from you, opposite your eyes to me. Worry isn't something I've gotten used to, but it fits. Just as the lights are humming, they are my breath in deaf tremor, eventual and hesitant. The permanence of sound.

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