Tuesday, March 24, 2009

10.28.95

Dream corrupt
Desire corrupt

I feel my body and shadow reverse
What walks is made of air
What lies on the ground is made up
Of skin bone and hair

You play 52 pick up and I'll play
Solitaire until I think
A diary in calligraphy
Of disappeared ink

Dream I'm not to touch desire
Desire I'm not to draw a dream

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