Friday, April 13, 2012

ah the bliss of being done...

when only memory roils in the spent loins

and the sweet rest afterwards

nothing more than the entire world

as a cigarette after the tussle

when an unnamed wonder staring at the ceiling

now solidifies into an awareness of cold stone

and the sky itself a ceiling of the crypt...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito.

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