Friday, March 11, 2011


the mortar is melting
and bricks are sliding down my brain.
There is disaster leaking out the mouth
black lines collapsing out of the parallel.
It's all about perspective
and this sickness draws its fingers in front of my face
crossing my eyes into a dizzy blinking braid.

1 comment:

  1. Dear Encausticparadox: This ill feeling is getting to me too, and I think a chill-pill is in order! Anyone have a aspirin? Truly "ill" is a catching poem!