Monday, April 22, 2013

Wise Blood

He held the guitar like it was a lover,
like it was a bird,
firm and yet loose enough that it could fly away.

His fingers seemed barely to move
and the music of the spheres
filled the grey cell block of dorm room.

"I got this after my first break-up,"
he said. "She took it as a compliment,
but it was never about her."

"I knew a girl once,"
I said, "who took credit for spring
because she covered herself in snow."

"I knew a man," he said,
"who thought he had killed God
because he gouged out his own eyes."

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