the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010


Ready strokes of a pen
Cramp in these digital synapses,
So a digital copy it remains,
Hanging like ready coats draped over my arm in
Dampening warmth to keep me from harming.
Now everything is stained monotone, colorless.
I hope not forget just where the sun is
Having left promissory notes on
Mountaintops and seascapes,
So I could save it all for later
In hopes of mercy for my leeway.

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