Monday, April 19, 2010

Anneke Brassinga

The shining mist already outlines shadows,
We pull up the water right to our chins
like sheets, so rippingly cool and fresh-starched,
we come to be bedded together, forever entwined
in the gauze of times past, when peacefully
no word we gave to bind us, sleep
of unmoored reason, towards dreamed up monsters.

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