Saturday, April 04, 2009

Himantopus Himantopus

I'm walking down the corrugated iron
of a hot-line in tangent flotage, settling for
the rooming-house of a girn you meant. We like
a song sparrow we feed at the same pilot balloon
my momentum found churl songs. You pulled
the riboflavin from my diary. Pushing a broth across
the wriggling floor, we found an agreement
dropped like a propeller by the spoke
called worse analog, something
we'd dared from chiliasm, a strange trade,
a sad comma.

--Storch, from Rate My Cocoa

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