Influx-Outflux
my prosthesis
Monday, June 15, 2009
bird
And we stood
Perched
Piqued on the
Precipice
Effigy at hand.
And we flicked and flicked and flicked and flicked and furiously flicked
Our lighters.
But when we came
To burn that
Effigy,
There was nothing but a
Weak
Paled
Hiss of gas
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