If you close your eyes against
the light of midday, then you see
the red-orange light of your eyelids
almost like the color of the sun
itself, maybe the hue of the universe.
What light could shine though
our whole body and turn it
into stained glass panes of hearts,
lungs, stomach and black skull boxes
of the brain. Only a light
so strong it would leave whoever
saw it with a certainty he's seen
the hue of the universe and every
shade of his place in it.
I'm back to writing a poem every day, whether they stink or not.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
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2005
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September
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- Second-hand Smoker
- Cuts (this is a second poem today to make up for y...
- Mirror and Dance
- Cycles at the Laundromat
- Vacant
- Elizabeth
- Teeth
- Simplicity
- Mouse and Me (a "lower standards" poem, I think)
- Consumed
- Not Writing Today
- Light
- Evening, September 15, 2005
- My first drug poem
- Observer
- Stealing Pleasures in Hell
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September
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