Just a temporary man, who writes poetry and listens to too much noisy music. His hobbies include salivating about glaciers destroying civilization and the cultivation of facial hair. Additionally, he generally strives to make himself as useless as possible....follow the thread back...

SHED

May 4th, 2010 by Zack

SHED

that ol’ skin, written upon,
spine-cracked.

habits and scratched jewels,
encasing the sound

of matrix printer symphonies,
a flashback of some left behind
love, a lash

draw out the lines of flight,
for others, a trace, the red
shining tails of cars

at night, the television hums,
concrete teeth fall outside or

inside—the urge, to saw off
a skull cap, a bonetonsure,
to expose one’s inner

and wet, grayish labyrinth
to trace out, with one’s own

fingertips.

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