December 22, 2012

poem 464 of a poem a day for 2012

nursing gravity songs

like brown grass
being the lasting
image of Winter
I can’t say
when the mania starts
to eat away
at the hidden impacts
and craters
of my depression
I can only say
without hesitation
that it feels different
than falling or fining
a crannied dale
to crawl into

under cover
suspending animation
I remember to have
faith in something
beside, my earnest lust
something, I can thrust
between dreaming
of white veils
and wading through
every dark womb
for the halos
of Spring


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