Monday, November 21, 2011

This October, it's Wool.

Wake me
from transient dreams
of faraway places
and faces
of infinite familiarity
that remain
unnameable.
We'll feel
the otherness
of words spoken
in the distance,
never more
than faceless.
We'll dance alone
in great halls
until neither
of us can stand
on our own legs.
This October,
I wrap myself
in wool.

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