4 Feb 2008

Like an old soldier,
Wakeful, in his tent
And you
Dark love me now
No, healthy no, breathe no!
His wire plain voice rolled
Went invitingly forth like that of a bull
Her little head was thrown back in scornful reproof
But as you see, my arms have gotten nothing
And was greedily gulping air, coughing and spitting.
Then he came to others on the rusty rails.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

pressed my thumbs to my ear
got high of this relaxing tear
pleasure fulfilling it's chapter
pressure drilling the new caption_
{say wooHaa, love it!}