Monday, January 08, 2007

Fins of Cloves

In my Sanskrit state,
my still celluloid dream,
the last gelatine poems
severed from scrolls and minerals.

I'm the demographic gaffe,
protest me. This fission of girl,
this scaling. I, beheaded,
a loving cup smirk.
My life a mussel- a soft gun,
a parliament of flora,
my name.

1 comment:

Larry Sawyer said...

You're not the demographic of gaffe, you're wonderful, but I'm biased.