7/16/2008

Scratching the Surface

For awhile, this
is what I thought
it was: embryo's,

blood and hands.

Then, like creeping
fig climbing up
a plaster wall

I recognized

the efforts of
a journey.

Now, through night
like claws of wolf
I scrape and scratch

the surface,
clamber up

the rocky hills
towards steaming
rays of sunlight.

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