i could talk
but could not be heard
for the white flour clogging my veins
my face is caked cake with no sugar or dreams
old man rivers a barking dog to change the schedule by an hour
or an entire history of mirrors broken and so submerged sisyphus
you may follow or just take a picture or write a poem make a choice so
as a king i think this is it

#352. sisyphus

August 12, 2010

too fleeting joy
the stone rolls back
down the hill
i run
no
king
but a slave
with only good death
to save me

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