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a sun's smudged makeup | a sun's new makeup

Fear

Fear



You have never understood fear,
that odd, ambiguous thing.


But sometimes you wonder if it is
that which comes with an all-


snagged falling into the not-
known, turning and black,


intrepid, grey, large, in your
dreams. –you wonder if it is


this feeling (cold, lingering)
on your back, on your skin;


that slight prickle on your
arm, all-lifting thing–that


rancid, acid breathing (its)–


                         on you.

Comments

silver_tears0
Sep. 20th, 2007 06:26 pm (UTC)
This is an excellent piece, James. I love it.

Kudos! *hugs*

-Debbie
inevitably_grey
Sep. 22nd, 2007 09:50 am (UTC)
Deb" *huggles*

Thank you! Don't know if you recognise it, but this is a revision (and a pretty good one, I think), from my QSQ Winner poem "The Raconteur".

Take care and I hope you're alright.
James

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