Saturday, September 20, 2008

METAPHOR FOR FRANKIE


My words are taller
Your native canes cannot reach them

So you always say
You misunderstand me
My murmur
You mishear as my sole reason
For waking up from cubic morning
To the edge
Of twilight

Perhaps you miss
The light burning in the middle
Of your forehead

As old woman
You’re taller as I am
Even when I stand and look up
I see the nimbus bursting
In the dark

You never really tried
To be
Like a puppy
When first thrown
Into the sea

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