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Winter of Recovery

The eagle splays her talons.

She takes all of the thick diamonds.

Morbid tomatoes wandering around.

Big, yellow containers stripping

All of the evergreens.

The elegant chastising rhythm.

Metal-like lemon mush,

Mechanical breathing machine

Whistles in a deep tone.

Searching for names, searching for reasons.

Watermelon compresses between fingers.

The memories are of misery,

And wishing for death.

Nothing can be recovered by  the cobra

Canisters floating on the dead trees.

Years of Jack Daniels

Have sprayed the gray pigeon shit

Over all that keeps me safe.

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  1. #1 by Life: Between the lines on January 8, 2011 - 6:13 pm

    🙂 I like 🙂

    • #2 by Carl on January 8, 2011 - 11:06 pm

      Thank you!

  2. #3 by Evelyn on January 8, 2011 - 9:08 pm

    “Metal-like lemon mush”
    Fabulous word combination

    • #4 by Carl on January 8, 2011 - 11:10 pm

      Thank you, Evelyn!

  3. #5 by Marian on January 9, 2011 - 9:18 pm

    i’ve come back to read this a few times.
    it is so compelling, each image creating a new melancholy for me.

    • #6 by Carl on January 9, 2011 - 10:02 pm

      Thank you, Marian. Your words are very kind, and it means the world to me!

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