Thursday, August 25, 2011

Shipwrecked on paper, the destination

Sat, it there,
the paper, shipwrecked.
Haunted to rise.
Shaken by it’s inner earthquake.
Explodes,
then leaves a cleft where it erupted.
Spirals down then bursts like a revolver
Leaving it’s blueprint,
the craft of it’s architect, the break of
Symptoms of who done it, with what, like gun smoke,
a fingerprint on the trigger
Interfacing in real time
Shipwrecked, tossed by
Backlogged, dredged,
waiting for it’s captain
and fire to light it’s path and crew
As if haunted and carried by wind
the pieces, caught their destination
To a craft, To lips, To fire, It’s destination
The letter of deep constitution met it’s lover’s hand
breathing new thoughts and new paths
From it’s core to it’s skin, to lips, to fire it’s destination, of best incarnation
words awaken, once shipwrecked of the paper haunted nature
 
 
 
 
 
 

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