Saturday, 18 February 2012

I Pulled The Pin And Let It Go

moping heart surgery
across the pages
a Stendhal squall in pastel
my three legged
Portland rabbit’s luck
set it to race
ocean to freeze poor
little fuck couldn’t taste
past the secondary
squeeze of metered
ologies broadened from
south to now then
cooling ground and
about this high were
it to stand in a puddle right
up to it’s bevelled

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