Wednesday, December 29, 2010


The thought circles back like Gravity's knife:
there's a hole in my skull and all the good stuff's falling out.
Cold bodies cuddle neuroses and fend off their nightmares
worried fingers panhandle and pickpocket but rarely get pinched
even as the holes in the keyboard open wider
the "O" and the "0" are really just 2 stretched open-terrified eyes
but no.
I'm getting it wrong
the whole is in my skull
a second mouth where typos fall out
and the fingers plug and push and staunch the words back in.
My body is stroking slowly as the cortexes collapse into each other's gravity
and the thought circles back
quick like Gravity's knife.

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