Thursday, July 22, 2010


I am so sorry Czeslaw
I know you won the prize.

Someone stuck a feather
deep inside your
road-side dog.

But it was a gift for me
Probably from a Lady I'll never see.

It was in the space between
Salvation and the damnation and
Pursuing a goal.

In a funny way
Things started meshing together.

The feather, your words, the song of death
And so I crossed myself with
the feather and
examined its silvery spine in
The light of my lamp.

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