Monday, May 20, 2013

Before the Music Ends


Before the Music Ends


I dreamed
that I was old
and wept…
burning with death,
I took off my skin

hung it up
like a soaked quilt
to dry the tears.

Now where do I hide?
Where do I find
the music that makes
me solid?

My skin dangles
on the finger          
of a sweated doppelganger
humming yes, yes, yes.                              




                                                 

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