Sunday, July 25, 2010

POEM: Habit

Smash habit into shards of “what-the-fuck?”
We are high priests of some ancient religion
Performing with mechanical grace.
Color is not reflected light,
As we were taught in school.
It is shells splintered against coral reef
That wash up as pink sand.

Habit is that piece of pulverized living
We allow to wash up onto our beachheads.

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