Wednesday, July 8, 2009

writers on writing

its fitting, dont you think
that we sleep on a bed
of books
hold us steady through
a dance off
thick paper bound books
just read the time travelers wife in a day
i sleep to dream
these nights
spiral coils
shrunken mattress, i only sweat the bed
when im alone
skulls tucked up
under chin
jello legs and fragile
temples
hold me in place, put
words under me
support my frame

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