Wednesday, January 30, 2013


It's surprising how
the feelings last.
The creature hides
in its brain-nest
nursing its wounds.
It breathes fast
through its mouth
quivering a little,
hiding its face,
poor wounded baby.

The sun doesn't stop shining
breeze plays in the trees,
but it stays hidden
in the dark
as the smell of its body
accumulates in the grass nest around it.

Death may or may not come.
But the time for salvation
slowly dribbles away.
It must rise. It must


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