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Overloading the Machine

Practice, in Ink

Today a tree fell from my hand,
on count of six:exhale, the rough
taste of newsprint licked in wisps
with a sable-tongued spine.

Empty, insurgent calm swelled tall
enough to pause the tremors, until
branches leaked, and a trunk stood
on its own.

This page was last modified on 2008 October 05. Practice, in Ink by John Sullivan is Copyright ©2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, and licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.