Thursday, May 15, 2008

Sdepan Keshishian: wind

the canvas bleeds like
wind through my neck,
becoming of age in
insatiable pulsing, indulging in
air and poetic license.

prison sentences for
convicts and proverbs,
and proper nouns in
solitary confinement

there is music in the air! and
treble clefs caught dangling in
branches and sheet music.

and so I despise the air I
walk on and Earth is a
flowing river of paint and paper and
Jesus drowns in the deep end and
birds are bad and bees sing and
trees sting and fall.

Sdepan Keshishian

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