Tuesday, December 08, 2009

    "The Desire to Paint"

Motley written without benevolence
in amber sleep as the clouds chime
of Fomalhaut

Was ever there anything
except motley
Our deeds that strive to cast a shape
on Fomalhaut

And not his amber sleep
And not these crowds of gong-tormented shapes
come to me bearing musical aldehydes
in Fomalhaut time

I am one with the dark and the crescent
i accept all this, and the chords of Fomalhaut

"The last American president to write a book all by his lonesome self..."

Peace Train 2006.

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