Friday, October 15


Let us leave
like lemons the dull history of our past,
the frank smells of our brother's flesh.
Are we not all one in the beginning? Or
has this twisted tale we tell raked you so
over the woodpile, your pants down, bottom up
that you forget: twisted miles of dreams
that were once lived by us all. Tell me now
that you believe in how we got here. Fast
it so just disappears that it can't be found
in your head.


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