Rusty Rivets Squirreling

Thousand Years of Being
March 5, 2013
There Sat a Gnarled Sage
March 8, 2013

rusty rivets squirrel through
the squirrely hole i squarely knew–
below the door above the floor–
upending sleep–with batt’ring beats–
while weeps and mother’s wail
in quiet barely creeps–to no avail another night–is lost to pounds and sounds–and all around more feverish
than dreams–what wicker wake
in darkness silent schemes–
before the suntide–makes

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