BEAR HANDS: WRITING AND POETRY
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
from the edge of a beloved cliff
in the rib cage
of a storm
the wind
clamps his jaw
over my body
and his over sized
hands pull me
back and forth
but I just look at that
green ocean
as if it were my
front-yard
and I burn up
as if the wire-cables
of lightning
were the throbbing
rays of the sun.
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