Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Tango de la Materia, No. 52

Predator without

Whose prey pray so full of nothing

Sweet airy nothing to feast

Thy favorite dish

Thy mean entrée

As the orchids of love

Hath called for rain

Perfect silence retrospect

When crevices congeal with ice

To make stakes in distance

Feel like nothing

Raptors having escaped themselves in trinity waltz

Dive climbing rise of gust of wind

Answer in flight collide and parlay

Those dear leaves of prey

Parting partnering ways on other whims

À nous la liberté

Nič whether lock or trim

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