Tuesday, August 25, 2009


Let each eye be a swan
that I may know the feeling
of that movement that I
know as sight. Let sight
be a mixture of transparency
and dark wet earth, of the
rough edge of a camel's back,
held together by the cold blue
sky. Churn these bits into
movement and the idea that I
send out my world when
it's ready, when it's the
yellow of an egg, and not
a moment too soon.


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