Hang on, like a skeleton's spider
dropping through trellises
to alight on a pelvic horizon
a halfsunken garden's marauder,
outliving the skins it sheds.
It is very difficult unless alone.
Shed only once, it is permanently bright
revealed by degrees, as the sand around it
is silently blasted away into a clear sky.
Think about how beautiful we must be.
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written dec 5 1994
11/15/2009 1:41 PM
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