Day Ten: ‘Notes For The Tenth Declaration’

April 10, 2013

My fears green as electric matcha or

a floor spot enduring broken thorax —

they spill. All my wardrobe in aero blue,

alloy orange and amaranth — false earth.


Notebooks stained with wide nothings and

trees of dark vanilla in the fog —

staunch coldness. Plenty to write home about.

I have arrived to filter through your words


and crease the whites of blue-bladed history.

Welcome me a prophet and a coward,

creeks of untied shoelaces behind me.

Unkotted, dangling streams also await


stiff tracks from where my mouth first oozed a name,

in bottle-green grandeur — leaf and twig and oxbow.

Welcome me a bastard, a spittoon sorcerer.


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