[back by an absolute lack of demand...]

[atari_soda]

SOME SWEET BLANKET / October 10th

Sticks and stones
Buried in my bones
Tucked in
Under
Some sweet blanket
Of musty comfort;
Vaulted beams of grass and
Granite,
Of earth
And oak,
Equal and opposite to
The vacuum
Of a puntured
Sky-

Where our sleeping eyes see
Through the flesh
To the seams-

Your needle and
Thread
Could raise
The dead and I
Need to feel your hand
On the other
Side of the page
I'll tell
You how it ends:
The telegraph lines
Have been
Reeled in, railroad tracks
Safety-pinned
To the lead paint
Riverbeds where
Songs of the dead
Swim
To the surface-

Where our sleeping eyes see
Through the flesh
To the seams.