10 November 2009

p.a.d. -- day eight

so, yeah...these are getting pretty awful...but at least i'm writing, right?...right?

Should Anyone Ask

It is evening. I have wandered off. Okay,
I've been abandoned. I am lost. My feet are
dirty. I carry a branch of laurel but still
my prayers are fruitless.

The sky is the color of wild greens. The moon looks
counterfeit and sad. The dragonflies make music by
opening and shutting their wings and the
toadflax nearly reaches my knees.

I will not chase love like a stray dog. I am
not a fool. I will leave these accursed woods.
But first I must wash my feet. And close my
heavy eyelids and sleep. Don't worry; it's just
a little nap.

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