Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Taste of Copper


Ramming my head into the post
The warm metallic taste of copper
A liquid penny on my tongue
Buys me a ticket to a light show
Which transforms the moss
Into the beard of a jovial god
Smiling at my mortal misfortune

“Cry, Bahooooom, Harooooom!
From Your Scattered Blood
The Hosts of Spring Arise!”

I am late for lunch.

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