Where the lobes leap outward
And sink in, processing irrational emotion
Quiet, quiet
Contemplation finds me here
Ours are hearts too easily made glad
Although I've imagined
(Enraptured)
Sheets, illuminated in the sangre light of sunrise
All others in dissolution
In these uncertain
Days (14 and counting)
Only voices may entwine
In desultory desires
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
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