FROM THE FRISIAN
Here it is, heading west, there's no mistaking it
the rigors of the pen writing samscaras.
It requires wading in, holding the pen flat, like a spade
the only way to carve out a track to lead out back.
The frission it creates when you think you're done
but the pen enters the house of memory at will
Reminding you it harkens a memory of two women
in an abandoned house, furrowing their brows at dusk.
4/16/2013
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