Saturday, February 25, 2006

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.

1 Comments:

Blogger Schroeder said...

A ha -- at last I found you.

I tried every possible combination "ablazeofhaze," "hazeofblaze," etc., until I realized what Kathryn (sp?) was actually saying.

5:13 PM  

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