Sunday, November 29, 2009

A Restless Sounding

For sullen’s sake I lie awake and fight the torments of the hour, that striking hour as clock at crack of door pangs and jars through wax-light streams and waves; an ungulate solid slab of reminder in my ear. I can’t forget, but to forget would even be expectance in increasing piercing remembrance, a funnel of fortitude in that ear.

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