6.01.2005

Emotions Can Be Felt

It's geometric;
The kiss of fog
Parting, like the curtain
To an unseen audience.
It's formula
Not Eulcid, but babies
Spat up on their mothers.
The rhythm of wit,
The isosceles sarcasm,
A spear of dew
Rolling down a drop
Of grass
Into the handshake
Of two strangers
Under the neon
Midnight.
I sing this body
Eccentric,
Into several spheres,
Planets orbiting the nucleus
And moving into solar
Eclipse, into alignment,
Binary hacking into identity,
Or a scope zeroing
On the heart.

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