sifting through aeons of green plums
we stagger in the hollow reeds of the wrong sun
under sorcery and utter love
ginseng in the choir of
our up above
we weave decay
we soon knit with icepicks, our idiot summer.
swinging from the chandeliers of our hovels
boiling rain
in ruby pots
delving into soft focus you can cut with a blade of gasp
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 11:42 AM UTC
sifting through aeons of green plums
we stagger in the hollow reeds of the wrong sun
under sorcery and utter love
ginseng in the choir of
our up above
we weave decay
we soon knit with icepicks, our idiot summer.
swinging from the chandeliers of our hovels
boiling rain
in ruby pots
delving into soft focus you can cut with a blade of gasp
Request permission to use this poem