when we float, there were
only --- nothing but tied arms, left
me with my handshaking empty
space. a deep road, sunken
brows where her nose slops through
the winter parks of some northern
state. Digging drops of dumping dirt,
drowning down beneath her skirt, a losing
tongue, a shovel, a spade, to interchange.
our heads are filled with whatever memory
we wish to enjoy, nothing's here though.
anything but close, no where near
where we presently are.
Last edited by Something_Vague at Oct 7, 2008,
I liked this, it really started to pick up around the 7th line. In the first lines I can see where your going, it just seems a little off compared to the rest. other than that it was very good.
"I is another." - Rimbaud
I still read your shit.

"Success is as dangerous as failure. Hope is as hollow as fear." - from Tao Te Ching