Sunday, October 3, 2010

St. Gerard of Brogne

the garden is dark and I can’t remember how to dance. was it a two-step in the cabbage and

straight on ‘till the steps make sense? your hands are ghosts, your lips, ghosts.

I pulled all the tomatoes from the vine. I couldn’t see the red, so I stained my white

skirt. this evening is a two way street and I’m driving blind. Everything

I thought I knew about roots came out in the wash.

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