Sunday, September 9, 2012

A Funeral

Casting ink shadows on walls
is the sun
falling toward its defeat
blazing orange and hysterical.

Tugged by a noose,
it writhes
leaving an ink cast hood behind.

Bellowing down,
drowning now
The sun, assaulted as ever
and writhing like mad
As the ink-casts bob and dance like porpoises
celebrating a death

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