Sunday, September 4, 2011

i found constellations painted on your back.
search for me in autumn wildernesses
my lips stained of wine
from the cellar of your heart!

clouds congeal into a single terrestrial object;
flowing newness and a hard-earned obscurity.
falling between my fire-eyes.
but no distractions can pull us from our slumber
where music penetrates our physicalities
and herringbone patterns are etched into our skin.