Last summer/last century
Phantasma
He rises
up, phantom, foreign
and familiar, some
unearthed dream
kindled
out of dormant
flashfires, pulsing
through
electric fingers,
flowing
us down the river,
desire
our only anchor.
He rises
up, phantom, foreign
and familiar, some
unearthed dream
kindled
out of dormant
flashfires, pulsing
through
electric fingers,
flowing
us down the river,
desire
our only anchor.
posted by Burnt Notions at 1:30 PM
1 Comments:
A ha -- at last I found you.
I tried every possible combination "ablazeofhaze," "hazeofblaze," etc., until I realized what Kathryn (sp?) was actually saying.
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