Fresh faced.
Rotten faced.
By heart, by element, by
Bubble, by sphere (If I
Were me, we would
Just see about that!)
Taking a bath
With geometry
Unruly line, every
Wrinkle defined, I
Latch the hairy
Window and dice
The conversation
Skyward. Stones
Are steam and gold
Is green, the rising
Sun is very still, in fact
It doesn't move, advancing
The double of the dark frame, me
The zone is drawn like heat
And every star will shiver.
improv. 2.18-2.22 am.
**
So...tell me about love...
Rotten faced.
By heart, by element, by
Bubble, by sphere (If I
Were me, we would
Just see about that!)
Taking a bath
With geometry
Unruly line, every
Wrinkle defined, I
Latch the hairy
Window and dice
The conversation
Skyward. Stones
Are steam and gold
Is green, the rising
Sun is very still, in fact
It doesn't move, advancing
The double of the dark frame, me
The zone is drawn like heat
And every star will shiver.
improv. 2.18-2.22 am.
**
So...tell me about love...
VIEW 10 of 10 COMMENTS
grr. top it off with the fact that i am having a weepy weird day, and that's the making's for wackiness. an orgasm not elicited from masturbatory practices is the only thing that will cure me.
thus, i pout
fuck.
glad you're enjoying the poem-trees. i've taken to just giving them away to people. someday, i won't have three boxes to get rid of...