Monday, April 7, 2014

Uncle Passing

Stay near, stay dear.
Ballons from Muffy, my final day of vacation.
I am starting to sense your location.
You are somewhere in the basement
beating on a makeshift drum kit
songs that I can hardly stomach.
I'm floating up the stairwell
with my fingers shaking frantic
thinking softly what a concrete mess we live in,
And what a icebox heart I've been given.

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