Friday, January 30, 2015





wait behind the door

pile of storm ,or for
m yr teeth chur
ned up ,extra cloudy
in the nap ,or thunder
crawls through eaves
,if easy picture burns
,or mud falls off yr
shoe ,reach in ,if
hand retains its air
,the space of sleet's re
turn ,and touch ,if
skin may speak ,the
rain

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