Thursday, January 19, 2006


Carmen’s dead.
Buried in
Redwood tree
Thickets of green,
Pacific coast memories,
Where I sleep
In Eucalyptus skin,
Surrounded by
Blue back books
With broken bindings,
Empty canvases,
Crumpled pages,
And stages too steep
To dance upon.
While in the distance
Redwoods weep
As Carmen’s corpse
(Or is that me?)
Is silently dragged,
Along with dreams,
To the bottom
Of a bottomless sea.

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