Sunday, November 18, 2012

Belly-up tea pot


Above the oceanless sky, the oceanless sky, the oceanless sky and I, I could not be bothered to be grasped to be held to be stoked by the glow of warm embers, breathed upon, sparks shooting out from beneath, washing the ground before disappearing forever, forever, going out and “poof!” spitting a little smoke, a little puff of sootened air, settling upon the ground, upon the ground, upon the ground below.

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