Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Wednesday, January 07, 2015

Yes, yes, fog

we have fog on the menu tonight
served in a variety of ways:
in front of you
down the street
in a harbor
in a meadow
between buildings
around buildings

the droplets are imported
 in the pockets of drunkards
and slowly released
like change at the laundromat

a long, long time ago
i went home with a girl made of fog
before i could hold her
she vanished on the highway
barely sighing

i found her the next day
escaping from a tea kettle
wearing an imported brassiere
and six bandaids painted like flowers
she would not tell me about the bandaids



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