Poem a Day 2013
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Devil Lungs
Beach weathered, caught, seen to the table way down the line.
Terror spice, embedded in thumb stumps, shell splits flesh splits shell eats flesh,
Or fibres, or whatever's left, separate from the pulp on the parchment.
Exo-contusions and then lunch particles jerk from mallet concussion.
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