Monday, January 31, 2011


This story has stayed with me.
My foot caught in it,
stray lines stick to the sole.

I think that some of me is in there.
Because of the setting I used,
which has real and unreal places in an amalgam.

We go through those places,
having our lives,
leaving our marks.

While being marked so that
you can leave but something remains,
back there and on you.

Like pruning scars on an apple tree,
where life took its cuts.
While your life moved on.

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