Friday, June 16, 2006

Freedom's Born To Butterfly

nose bleed,
silence, fragment,
A wild intercourse
of peach petals.

Red grows the heart
freedom's born to butterfly,
a low, low mutter
of a voice.

A hole, a cave,
of loneliness,
a thousand friends mean no one,
Lightening sparks its beauty
a sparrow is an angel
a loveliness of sky-white.

Bright heaven, windows have no light
a bit of green tasty grass,
a line in the morning,
a tempest of a lung,
a roar of a white blood cell.

Eat before a lethal kill,
Rainbows contain no venom,
A starlight contains memories,
of beaches and whales,
a cruise in the ocean-sky,
A dance in the depth of the eyes.

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