Saturday, September 01, 2007

FOR COLORED GULLS WHO HAVE . . .

Nothing brightens up the day like a bit of despair.

EIGHT WAYS OF LOOKING AT LONELY

[one]

A wisp of white against an eternal blue.

[two]

A tiny town
in Alaska.

[three]

Along twenty occupied bar stools,
the only moving thing
was the hum of the Blues.

[four]

Maybe cuts on the wrists,
or a cup of cyanide,
or a fork in the toaster,
or fumes filling the car,
or pills in the hand,
or a bullet in the chamber,
or a rope dangling from a ceiling,
but definitely the dive from a bridge to the river.

[five]

An empty set of parentheses.

[six]

Always an invitation, never an RSVP.

[seven]

In a mirror while everyone else is sleeping.

[eight]

As seed of the unplucked peach.
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