Sunday, March 9, 2008

new poem

Horizontal Workspace

A body tempura'd and a dilapidated
pleather non-compliant vendor. Love.
Discontinued veins. Your discontinued
veins. Would give anything just to run.
I have an open sore that I named
Kobe Bryant's triple-double. It has
no subjective reality. Hurt bird.
One in two Microsoft Office 2007
marriages end in decapitation. I
can feel the floor move when people
walk near me. I can hear the LaserJet
in my sleep. I wish I could partition
the moon using fabric the color of blood.
Will you be my horizontal workspace?

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