Tuesday, June 12, 2007

self reflections

& as a little child who sleeps in his iron bed
I try sometimes to see where my blood will go
But I can’t
‘cause I have salt in my eyes
& after all this salt & all this blood
There is nothing to be covered by
The way to the foreground is clear
Paved with inner sweat
For I’ve been there with my cold iron frame

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