Monday, February 2, 2009


(Imagine yourself in a pitch black cellar with a zebra.)

(Imagine a zebra wading in a shallow sea of blood.)

My zebras graze

Cloud and stars

Moon and sea

Sun and stone

Rain down on rainy days

Run gently down the panes

Fix fast and blaze

In the cellars of the liquid mines.

My zebras, liquescent, fluid

Never caged

Are birds and skies

Windows and views

Nations and flags

Depths and mirrors

Burn in my eyes.

Nothing without

Nothing within

The soul on the skin.

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