Sunday, March 25, 2007

Picea

P. abies

    beaming back yellow
    mother is close
            marble, fractal shadow...
    How long am I hiding?
            when the river mourns
            so the river moults water.
    And now, another day, almost the last.
    Boof, hush bombs


P. sitchensis

    steps up to a loft
            air    case
    you peer either way, with a candle
    cracked plates
            spitting

    Latin crocodrill, out of our headphones
    untidy rooms, Lil gowned in her duvet

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