Tuesday, April 22, 2014

npm: 04.22


if you opened my mouth
there might be a tree
something both gnarled, flourished,
trunk shoved right from tongue.

among the newsprint,
some graves.
piles of wilt
a hole where reasons should be.

my bed is red--worse than blue.
oven hollers and wine glasses
pop like glitter--
unhinged bone
rarely burns.

do me a favor

find these teeth
a reason to bite--
find me meat
I can earn.

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