Sunday, March 1, 2015

SIP

Every time—
right between 
the eyes—

ardent greedy ginger-
steam 
stings swift-
ly and inclines each 
nostril to flare reflexively

endeavoring there
to enter
and to storm the enchanted 

and sprawling
and wasted 
pallid 
ruins and 
columns of a somber mind—dauntless

climbing 
its legendary winding 
sinuses—not altogether 

ruthlessly—plundering 
and then
setting fire

to its heretofore palatial
capacity for
dim isolation.

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