Off Topic: Today’s Verse 65

The tide, your tides
they pull my insides
across the alley.

This trumpet, any trumpet snores a billfold of glue.

Suddenly, this harmony
bottles up the decay
of an ancient mariner’s odelay

the black star sails diamonds,
a diagonal cross-cut memory
voices morphed, visions cursed,

And right now,
the tide, your tides
they pull out my insides
wind them into a cork

above the wishing well of arrows.

— yiqi 21 jan 2013 9:54 PM

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