Friday, January 13, 2006

Light Recovery

Vanish. When snow hits the pavement it's smooth;
cool looks build little cubicles for us to move around in.
Every mountain builds little extra pockets of acreage,
the squirrels hulking, their cocks like the last husks of corn,
leaving rice that we use to cover ourselves over with. The room
is XDV6; there's wood in all the cardinal directions.

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