Saturday, November 5, 2011

Middle Story

What's going on in there?
Everyone's rummaging
The prefrontal cortex.
The room where the kids play
Erupts in strange noises
And a couple of screams.

The eyes over dinner,
The eyes in the mirror
Go dark and blank at once,
The way water closes over
Whatever's too heavy,
The thick, capacious look.

Mysteries are being
Put together, starting
With a corpse. Histories
Are being taken down
That will stomach our end,
Starting from that dark horse.

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