Sunday, July 5, 2009


I am meeting
the corners of the square
sheet making
on a diagonal
a valley
now I’m closer
and steps ahead
flat, fat right
triangle and invisible
almost at times so thin
a syllable in epic
the width of string
now valley opening
lips whispering fire
vapor of our under-the-breath
confessions creased into
an ear, a letter penned
in vanishing ink
a page forgetting turning
bright white, light
was beaming beneath it
the edges line up
so imperfectly
it’s a piece of paper
meant for disappearing
acts not writing.

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