Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Fifth Season - in progress

it is the season of skinny girls
like mad tulips, mini
skirts and stalk
legs appear and dance
on the concrete,
on the tiled floors of bars,
that 3 out of 4
are occupied
by old men. but
it is not their season.
(it is the season
of skinny girls)

i sit, curved about
in this wasteland
of here and now.

you ask me
what it is like
to be recycled, refound
and i cannot

i switch-stop weekly,
abandoning this vessel
or cradling it,
wishing for the grave
or baptism.
i am not one of them.

that life is not mine,
i have abandoned my
stalk legs -
i prefer to let
my blood crawl and drip
sometimes over folds,
often under
my own bones' light.

i do not dance
on concrete,
i am a creature of
the fifth season
for which
there is no bloom.


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