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Jazz echoes about the rondures of the cavern The surface air pulses past cool, as my blood warms I’m being led by a curious young man I’ve been writing The bevy of picture-postcards enchanting my whims I pad barefoot into a waterfall basin Lit only by the muted tangerine rind of gas lamp, shedding garment and silhouette to wet rock, his breath amplifies across my form, as wet ink soaking into page swimming in a restless descent, and forgotten edges his fingers sprawl as ferns about my form in a glen, tucking about my frame, and dipping me comfortably further into the mud he’s pressing my form into the pulp of the cave scrawling ephemeral post-cards with my frame
0
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
Cave Letters
Jazz echoes about the rondures of the cavern The surface air pulses past cool, as my blood warms I’m being led by a curious young man I’ve been writing The bevy of picture-postcards enchanting my whims I pad barefoot into a waterfall basin Lit only by the muted tangerine rind of gas lamp, shedding garment and silhouette to wet rock, his breath amplifies across my form, as wet ink soaking into page swimming in a restless descent, and forgotten edges his fingers sprawl as ferns about my form in a glen, tucking about my frame, and dipping me comfortably further into the mud he’s pressing my form into the pulp of the cave scrawling ephemeral post-cards with my frame
5/19/15
meagan-moore
Written by
American
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
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