Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Tango de la Materia, No. 49

Bathing adrenaline tingles

Curving arches of the spine

At twilight daze curtails

A sleeping want of air

Through passage onward dusk

A chemistry thus paralyzed

Our motions’ ballerina spin

Chills the rugged Brooklyn piers

Their density enriched

At waiting home aromas

A la carte the trim

We’ve dilapidated shear

The bottom of the well

Too calm

And then how surely do we swim

And so surely whip our fears

An embroidered shivering

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