Perils of assimilation

If only life came with subtitles.

Monday, November 13, 2006

Tiger Skin

Build a frame of words,
The poets of drowning
Golden blood of an aborted birth
Ocean blood, tiger skin
Gross earthliness
I mourn, I mourn.

Become a hermit with
your tongues.
Sway to the rhythm of
your stilled heart.
If I could have saved you with a kiss of words,
I would have.
But think not that I don’t know.
I knew, but I was not expecting
The truth to slap us both in the face
So quickly

Climb the tree of words
Ocean blood, Tiger skin
Poet of the rope
You cast off your earthliness
I mourn, I mourn


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