hindsight/unrequited.

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Poetry makes nothing happen.

December 13, 2011 at 8:10pm
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Sunset by Dawn

On the dawn

I’ll ride a falcon

through a field of

spluttering lovers

to the precipice of

a laughing economy.

Plastic platinum

traces the

sweating palms of

lust and loathing.

Two things,

less evil than

kindess, more

demanding than

death.

Notes