Saturday, May 7, 2005


There is no time for the gentle
arc of falling meteors, or caress
of the soft breeze. We have passed

into summer, hot and glaring
where sweat beads on the brow
and between breasts, where lips

once sipped. Granite tongues jut
into the future, tearing away
the soles of shoes too long worn.

Yeah. Not my greatest freewrite eh? It's been too long since the last time I held to my 30 minute free-write exercise. It shows. Christ - look at the gerunds. Not one word! It's a free write damn it. I doubt I'll ever revise it either, I see nothing to merit the effort.

binge purge binge purge.

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