12 June 2011

Non-durable (H.C.)

Non-durable (H.C.) 6/12

The line of water is so solid the little ripples
make faces back

The edge of the boat is low enough to hop over…

I am weak there is no bridge that
could take me to the farthest shore from here

My ego deflates in the salt air the rocking is green…

Air is thick in the back of my throat the water
is oil is glass I am dropping myself into it

Surface breaks into a field of super nova-ing stars…

Tell me the weight of forty-year-old men in water
whisper incantations to freeze the surface

To break the fall…