the swelling wisper of words
---raul

those leaves are still gently swelling against the concrete shore,
as the endless circles of car horns, lovers, and cracked desires
find there way into the lake.
a suffocating beauty of pollution,
swelling with the same poetry that has run through
everything before eyes began brightly,
then comfortable,
opening.
`
long,
long before the words form was shaped
into a modern payday
of past and present.
`
the lake has always been speaking this feeble
but somehow perfect language.
around the leaves,
cracks light through desire.
`
and that plastic bag so brutally thrown into it,
may be the final suffocation.
is forgiven and woven through
new words for a new world
`
our product in the great stupidly of animal necessity,
is short.
`
and the lake will whisper on long after the lovers have left.
`
raul