You are my face
shot through the jaw
stitched back toge
ther with twine with
raked-leaf patches
leathery bin
dings

I could write of
you my face in
places you have
been on the Me
tro stop at An
vers in the Lon
don Eye in the
comic book store
on Saint Germain
crossing the street
to get to the
childrens' play park
in Switzerland

But the places
you have been are
defined defiled
by you being
there

The beauty in
front of your raw
ripped eyesockets
is absorbed de
pleted to ext
inction turned in
to mush to match
what is inside

06/23/2003

Author's Note: Travelling poetry.

Posted on 06/27/2003
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