March 30, 2007


over the rocks

loosely weaving them
together with a tongue
as limp as algae

rotting in the sun
each thought
punctuating the otherwise

easy flow of speech
tripping it up
on discarded entrails

heads and tails
and fear and shame
so it lands

on all the jagged bits
between the image
and the stutterance

—Anamarķa Crowe Serrano
(this poem was written as part of Offsets, a collective writing project which can be viewed at

Posted by dwaber at March 30, 2007 12:14 PM