anachronizms
extensive poetic juxtapositions by and about del ray cross (delraycross at gmail)
Friday, July 09, 2010
mccxvii
She torched his hand.
All the cat’s tits dropped.
I was a boy of five reading
about lepers.
We talked about him for
an hour and a half.
Ebb tide.
This is his best addiction
yet. Number seventeen.
Hate what’s dwelt upon.
Love the ecstatic
after-effects.
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