Sunday, October 02, 2011


The “I” endured as the despotic
Wink of my last performance by which
The cobweb strand dividing “erotic”
And “disembodied” was summarily whisked
Away—only to be replaced by a fear
So real it drew the outline of my shadow-life
Around this chandelier of rain I sometimes share
With a starving blue-winged butterfly—
Whose presence I try to imagine as more
Like a figuration of absence inside
The fullness of the air.

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