the rivers know us
the dirt clings to flesh
becoming flesh again
Autumns and afternoons
Carolina blue skies
where light meets
the damned
our sacred conversations
grow by lamplight
and moths overhear our quest
and thirst for words
like snowfall in an hourglass
organization - too much of this
will destroy us
and the music that inspires
the dancing of lovers, well that
only death obliterates
No comments:
Post a Comment