Monday, June 6, 2011

POEM FOR C

Paper stuck under the door
Handle lowering the etched
Curves in wood
Upon the latest messages

Separation pulls apart confused partitions
Depression lowers us below the door
Framed by sweepers and weepers
Flattening ourselves below their noses

Melodrama punctures still days
With gusts of dripping faucets
Morse coding prescriptions
Sticking to lips intruding on
Folding ourselves into our sheets
Clouded in obscured departure

Nightmare waking day
Feedback loop
Interrupted by the tall and
Intimidating segmented forests
Foreheads meet to tap puzzle pieces
In between our tongues
Testing flavors of images
Of trees
Felled by cemeteries filled with belonging


- Max Stoltenberg

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