Wednesday, July 26, 2006


In your breath two cold rivers
and your arms hold an entire rock.
Joy shoots out from your eyes
and in the hollow of your heart
a bird flies beautiful circles.
In the night we lie in a pool
of cool air.
A stream keeps covering you and
uncovering you.
All the next day I walk back and
forth through your life,
the sound of a tree swaying in wind
repeating itself.

That was last year in a better time.
Today we are hungry at each other's breath.
I feed you from a long pole.
Spikes surround me.
I wear a necklace of terrible teeth.
We disgaree about so much.

Through the long colonades of my memory
an army is making camp.
Through the short stemmed flowers
of your recollection
a bee is working itself into sunlight.

Greg Kuzma

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