October 14, 2009

Archive number TWO

This one is here purely because I just read the word 'archive' in it and I just wrote 'archive' in the title of this entry. I had to stifle a little giggle. Aside from that, this is something I wrote after a weekend camping. Hence the picture of Tracey Emin's 'Tent'.


One night.

nothing beats the thrill
of a lie on the cusp of.

when everyone loves
(for everyone loves),

we never falter.

The collective ache
stiffens the archive,

that looser rose-hipped
hunter. He will heal


nothing beats the thrill
of a lie, close shadow.

something in the pulse
repeats, stagnating.

moist breath again, again.

Uncertain lips hover
and clasp. We sit, awake.

We are fumbled, cold.
Promised another.

for everyone loves.

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