Thursday, May 21, 2009

magpo is for eighteen-year-olds

I

you smell. surrender all wind.

II

suddenly
the sky vanished

III

you crush
the chill
from this
empty morning

IV

moon will drop his stars
let march come

V
begin to leave
yet
hear the song
remember
not a fling
a friend

VI

she usues summer sky as balm

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