Thursday, May 9, 2013

Homologues

It sounds 
the same, but 
being alive

doesn't quite 
look 
like living does—

take this 
bed of cockeyed 
tulips, craning

like crazy 
for a sip of today's 
arcane sun—

they may not know 
how to talk about it;

I may not know how 
to stop.

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