crashing paper flakes

she was given a lighthouse
a donation, a gift an inheritance
to save her from ghouls of hair-raising jungles
to protect her from souls of the passing bundles of gold shimmering gold
little dumplings of hope and shovels of peace
all that was left was the still of the lighthouse
the crashing paper flakes hit the boulders

and then the door opened to show me
the reality that was constantly pushed at from all sides
and I closed it

daylight in the shape of a science
showed up at my most vulnerable moment

when desire was intensified by the crashing paper flakes
and the dumplings of hope were converted
into nothingness, somethingness, and
poverty of your acknowledgements

just now but only one 20-minute moment away
this very same lighthouse-moment boiled at my contours
and I assemble the same moment

you can not cool it away and store it in anything but a lighthouse

Poetry by i should
Read 638 times
Written on 2006-11-05 at 22:29

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