Published in peshekee river 5.2
Pretense Through Repetition
Clear waves of music
from stone-blue horizon
far away, cry of spring song.
And my blood tells me
the day ends here.
Little shot of heroin
and I sleep alone again.
After midnite they come
to cut my legs with broken glass
and I jump out of the same window
over and over.
In the morning the print of my passage
runs across the white page.
Peshekee River Poetry:
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box 689
Eastpointe, Mi.
48021
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