10 June 2010


Remediless 6/10

Ten thousand words balled n paper still
cannot kill your cancer

I sit on the edge of a fire pit and press ashes back
into branches back in to trees into seeds
I bonsai the crumbs of your bones into miniature yous
Clip their branches once a year give them small
fields to pick daisies in

In the dream about work there are endless
piles of sand filling endless coffee cups
The roots choke n the waterlessness despite
Sahara preferences

There is no eye on the dead sparrow
only holes and things banging about beneath

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