Monday, April 9, 2007

Glazed Little Glaciers

It’s a ladder of chatter
It’s a hairstyle harpooning little curls of hair
It’s tremendous and endless and I can’t defend or comprehend this
Or send a fist
When all I meant to do was intend the drift
There’s wreckage dotting the coast
And it all deflects the bridge of snow that I loved the most

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