Sunday, January 8, 2012

Dry Oak Tree

dry oak tree




a doorway of hesitant circles

low moan followed

clutching spasm

after slowly instantaneous

shattering of limb

her lying still

her turned words

and the darkness

like a sound of horses

growing rising bursting forth

descending out

from limbs and trunk and wind

a rush of wings

threshing of breath

harvest of caught eyes

outcry of blindness

fingers skittering across the stones

braided so deep into

the twist of height

becoming nothing

an arrow

splintering outward

from her break of bended bow

my bleeding temple

streaked across her spattered leaves

stirring against concrete

a new autumnal sound

as I go on

uplifting my destroyed wrist

and clear eyes

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