Friday, April 1, 2011

Ocelli Neonati Genitus Sunt

I have a sister with a baby;
she has brand new eyes
with no cover and no fear
but to hurt and to die.

I have a niece gazing wildly
at the sky and at the sea,
at the breaking of the waves,
she's still gazing up at me.

I have a Friend with a foundry
making bullets out of blood.
He breaks over boundaries,
making dirt, pouring mud.

My sister's husband's child
seems to love every sight,
casting wildly for the world,
casting wildly for light.

My brother's sister's daughter
has never seen this before;
this moment she won't remember
teaches her to grip the shore.

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