Monday, July 2, 2012


Find our hands entwined from the lattice of your spirit-breath.

Yes, winds are fresh
and they carry moisture from your sunkissed lips.
Fluttering up my heart.

I've found a beating beyond sunsets
and towers tumble to their
In deep summer, odorous heat.

I could. I could carry you, but there
has not a single beating drum to match
my previously harnessed words.
I am undressed, and angry.
Whisper to me the deliverance of nine sunsets.
I will hide you under burnished grass,
and when the sun beams on the attic door,
we have a single, pulsing hope.

For forgiveness and sparking illumination
when our feet hit the mud.
Shiver through horizontal spines.
Primordial filaments
which gather in fire-deserts;
the suffering of everlasting existence.
I am aware this stings your consciousness, makes you short of
Creates and weaves barriers between
your father and mother. But still they have owned and
replicated their histories. They have
admired the stars overhead and the
specific marks on your palms. Among them,
I will wave branches for your
arrival. There is nothing yet to be missed.

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