When the sky changes, the heart opens up
And out of cliffs boulders hang on prudently
Like the skin between your fingers
The rain becomes the air. Soon
The desert is trumpeting its flowers
From all its highest fingers
(Were they ever really there?)
Soon enough the earth becomes bare
And what's left hides in caves.
What need do I have for flesh?
Simply the desire to be cloudy.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 8:48 PM UTC
When the sky changes, the heart opens up
And out of cliffs boulders hang on prudently
Like the skin between your fingers
The rain becomes the air. Soon
The desert is trumpeting its flowers
From all its highest fingers
(Were they ever really there?)
Soon enough the earth becomes bare
And what's left hides in caves.
What need do I have for flesh?
Simply the desire to be cloudy.
