Thursday, January 05, 2006

Teresa Sparks

for here the day unravels what the night has woven

and as he wept, he wept
you without joy might carefully be sung
to be durable or to be resilient
a host of plucking fingers
at sleeves, at guitars, mandolin-wise
you’re at a loss, this, the next
tear, as he says falls banally
in the moonlight, you’re not
remembering, you’re not together,
it said, it’s only your lack
or architecture holding you down


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