To keep each line

I steer clear of the next,

writing in darkness

and recording the night in tiny ticks.

tick,

word,

tick,

words that pulled themselves out of depth

flew out like strange birds

frightened and flushed out of the thicket

tick, tick.

 

words press the sun upward

to bloom again.

 

Dave Barber,  30 Oct 08

Natural Laws

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