Brosco sits,
feet dangling
at the edge of a cliff,
naked shoulders
wrapped in sunlight.
Brosco waits,
chews the air,
spits out the clouds,
gets busy and decides
to fall in love the sun.
Brosco walks,
steps like dynamite
(boom-shaka-laka),
and grinds his teeth
like the sound of a savage drum.
Jan 6, 2011
Jan 6, 2011 at 8:09 PM UTC
Brosco sits,
feet dangling
at the edge of a cliff,
naked shoulders
wrapped in sunlight.
Brosco waits,
chews the air,
spits out the clouds,
gets busy and decides
to fall in love the sun.
Brosco walks,
steps like dynamite
(boom-shaka-laka),
and grinds his teeth
like the sound of a savage drum.