Saturday, January 23, 2010

a lake pours into
the bed.
you sleep, breath like a giant whale breaths 
there is an icelandic mist coming out of your nostrils and the hurtles make me laugh 
rough tides of snot and drudgery from the day.
why do all things carry seemingly seamless wells?
holes in the soul. 
folds in the soul.
soul in the kitchen and morning dew parts your forehead into dots 

1 comment:

  1. I tried Icelandic Glögg last night at a Glögg party. It was pretty good.

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