Sunday, November 18, 2007

notes on the solid

Trees are solid.
When driven into: close to certain fatality.
Chairs are solid.
Settle into the seat; some segments of spine aligned with chair back.
The floor is solid.
Feet walk across it, plant and uproot with ease.
The apple in my hand is a solid.
It surrenders to the crush of my teeth, it enters.
And it disappears into the solid body of me.

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