Long Form

Steely scrapes do etch
Defining hatch direction
Cross fade deep to dark
Gray reprimands blue

Born in a tent bed with rails
Not teepee turned storyboard
That fluorescent tent, a nest
More than less upon reflection
Scars, fight, scurry -- off to you
You blessed patch of fire, destiny
I marry a plane, and fly away
You go pale and drown in well water

All is a fair, in groves of paper
We mince words and eat them
Leaving scraps of letters for people who can't read
When they learn, we change direction of the very winds we blew in on
And host a party, by invitation only
--
2.17.12