Saturday, January 24, 2009

January 23, 2009

I'm tired of writing these love poems,
these milky lyrical labyrinths that
house the man and bull of my anxiety.

I want to stand in the center of your
cities, and your churches, and your unused
Rockwellian dinner tables and tell you

that there is no way in, and there
is no way out, and the only string we find
we'll use to tie a ten million necked noose.

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