we see a fumbling, flaming
sky, never empty of desire -
sanguine, thriving, escalating,
chasing shadows and losing
all we have to moments
we are grateful we could
find, searching, seeking
the carving and scorching
hands that make me
fall into the sublime suns
of our dreams and escapes,
veins throb, this lunacy
becoming apparent, collapsing
in the wind of perfumed porcelain.
No comments:
Post a Comment