Wednesday, March 26, 2014

gilt roots

pulled by the tumult of your hurricane.
swirling in soot from the bosom of your womb.
said would not be I,
not I, 
not I. 

but it was I. 
I who knotted myself into your marble carved trapdoors-
scent of water brushing through intersecting roots.
facedown in clay
whispering desert poems
air follicles 
bursting at the surface of your brunette-painted dark assumptions
sentences crack like dry bark
anchors drag me to deepest indigo sea



closest reddening eyes
for the shivering slash of dawn 
hits my transparent eyelids
a futuremelody
played backward
and not a trial heard for reckoning, 

rode newly furbished bicycles through darkened downtown streets
illuminated ice- 
dry, thick with wool.
steeped in dusty hues of mountain sunsets.
rapid annihilation of curated sparks
or mingling sentences;
wavelengths snapped at their seams
reveal dazzling individual crystals inside.
we ourselves are individuals.
and continue hovering.
scale stagnant waters; 
be risen up 
and completely anew.

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