poetry = nonsense
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit

Little mouse
her openness of heart forms the vast tract where at the end of my days the tangled branches of my wretched genesis can finally untangle her tender love a nexus where gravity of spirit meets sweet embrace a grave for super-heroes to rest a gentle pillow for my weariness the gold my brokenness to repair and in her gentleness I see the reflections of my perverted self a twisted doppelgänger whose time has come whose crumpled wings she smooths and unfurls with smiles and kisses uncoiling warming loosening a path to the humanity I have so yearned for 24-III-2014
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
All Rights Reserved
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