to my friend
mr. book
she went shopping yesterday and down the road
she met mr. book elegant & severe a tight with a diamond ring
he slightly bowed & opened his cover gently with an inviting sweetest wink
and let her slide through his warm azure pages
binding her to him on a long beam vertical on her left
and allowed her to glide through words and words
crafted in thick red and black ink
which brought her among thoughts & images
a master mind had devotedly created
and she looked up & told him
he maybe didn’t know but those were... were...
and her voice just deeply faded
- they’d make people care she continued inspiring a mouthful of air
by strengthening values
(different from blank attitudes lazy egotistic circular times
theories taken for granted cars and dusty carpets gadgets
statuses given for free in boisterous postures by hate dictated
mouths spitting dirty sluggish frogs of a gelatinous adipose
self)
nothing could mine what he had forged by carving a/cross notes
it was & would be his grief transformed into white beads
past monk engulfed by ténèbres
to be the bright rarefied glow of a winter morning sun -
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