Saturday, August 30, 2014

the rubble of bark tanka sequence

the rubble of bark


he’s dead
there I said it,
a reminder
of my own years
of eating dates

this is how it feels
to lose it on those days
when death
cruises for good food
and nice garments

my torn body
tears itself again—
night's
million shadows
grow taller

hour by hour
my bleeding lips
vanish,
my brain blackens
like the countryside


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