the fireflieswarm nights openthe fireflies
themselves at my feet,
and beat an even rhythm
in the floorboards, the fireflies.
on these days we converse entirely in motion -- waking, walking,
wordless.
useless in the face of fear and possessed of a secret desperation, we await the arrival of the Good Life.
the depth of each layerlike layers of sediment, we found ourselves buried in a landfill of skies and supernovas.the depth of each layer
i tried to separate myself from each tissue-thin cross-section, but each found a place among the molecules of my wrists and ankles, blending my edges into color and water.
through some remembered drumbeat, low and old, the milky way lowered her eyelashes, dropped her hip, parted her lips and beckoned.
once upon a timeI used to write starsonce upon a time
into the pit of my stomach because it meant something and I meant it form, grammar, capitals,
punctuation- none of it was relevant only the feeling, suspended in language-waltzes
especially sky, and forever and stars and silver fishes and the tips of faraway cities those were words that
could never stop ever because I had immortalized
red
summer!
Excited
I love your poetry..
and I take your work for collaboration with the concept of my photos "Love Letters to a Violin"
--
finish
we are like roses that have never bothered to
bloom when we should have bloomed and
it is as if
the sun has become disgusted with
waiting
charles bukowski
--
'a prize for your ears called love'
xo!
--
let's go play on a baggage carousel
Previous Page12345...Next Page