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moontriangle: October 2004
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Saturday, October 30, 2004. Without meaning to betray you,. I have lifted your skirt. And in this renewed sky. Set my sun and moon and exhaled. Three castles of clouds. Your pockets. Will be good houses. For the gods, birds and perhaps. The occasional airplane. We cannot deny. The truth of how we are used. Beyond even our absolute. Imagination. With this thought,. I see you rearrange. All the carefully placed assemblies. To justify a smile- unfathomable. Before in your eyes of shock,. I take your face.
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moontriangle: November 2004
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Monday, November 22, 2004. A Woman Leans In; Dark. I want to whisper. Into the space that draws you. To this pause between breathings. I want to hear. The hollow through my throat. Shake your eyes to see. A sign of all this. Gravity you resist with. Your anatomy locked in leaning. Lay its hands in you. And pull you in? Swelling in your womb? I want to ask how deep. And then to kneel to the meeting. I want to see if your eyes. Will follow me down. Or if I am. On a painting by Chika Yoshii. A part of every.
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moontriangle: December 2004
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Wednesday, December 29, 2004. Osaka Christmas Night '04. Of all these lovers shine. Happy enough to give. It all away for the push. Of a body on a body. The train car lunges. And we all relax. We crash with one. If we can't believe. Resulting. "I love you" is. Another way to know. This breath we breathe. Posted by jerry at 6:36 AM. I have felt this. Miles have we traveled. And corners have we turned. To meet this chance. By chance again;. Through one another,. In each other's pockets. The only trace,.
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moontriangle: March 2005
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Saturday, March 05, 2005. All This Visible Plink Plonk. Vastness, we are. The tiger and the boy. And tosses our boat. The richness of all. This visible plink plonk. Posted by jerry at 7:22 PM. View my complete profile.
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moontriangle: April 2005
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Thursday, April 28, 2005. Hecatomb of a Fingernail. Hecatomb: (noun); an ancient Greek sacrifice of 100 oxen or cattle. These poems are monuments,. Like small heads of cows. Drawn in the fog. These epics of brevity:. An old man with. Two fingers to his face,. A square of paper. On a green bus bench,. Meeting a woman's glance. As we look away from others. These are the rain of. A purposeless courage,. Posted by jerry at 11:28 PM. This spark lands here,. Shining from the distant. Sun; your eyes. Never pass...
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moontriangle: May 2005
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Sunday, May 08, 2005. From what appears to be. The pocket of your vagina,. You pull out a chair-. From nowhere- and take a seat. All of us over here. On this side of the train. Work our eyes back and forth. Beneath our boldly knitted brows. As though we've finally understood. The words that have always been. Written halfway up the sky. Our first urge is to want. To share this shining confusion. But how can witnesses converse. In the words of the world they left? When two small children meet. Old, rock-ba...