Saturday, May 31, 2008

The Politic of Conversation

Bombs set off out of my open eyes,

Shapes revolving in a vein structure;

This ethereal rhizome romping,

Tied to beings of ground,

Lost out in air.

Dipolar voices

Make each divide,

Branch after branch,

Ruddy liquid truth never still, astride

Until it spreads and crosses

Blocking beneath,

Another vein shooting beyond

the now and the then explosion of eyes.

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