Thursday, May 24, 2007

crisp pieces: a poem

i reach into the bag
my hand fills with crisp pieces
they reflect the ache of my life
and all our lives
they reflect the way time is like
a shattered mirror
in pieces
do you see where i'm going with this
or should i just, like
stop already?


Rachael said...

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Rachael said...

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Rachael said...

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- rachael

Anonymous said...

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