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SparrowfrecklesPoems
a candy apple red heritage soft-tail classic on a rusted dirt road i am built of where i've been the mango groves the east and west coast and every camp-ground in canada this map is my home let me tuck you into the folds and sing you to sleep some place sweet where the air smells of earth and rain don't let the concrete tame you the road under foot is not measured by the steps necessary to travel it but the way one migrates over the breaking soil resting between where we are and where we'll be when our dreams run free and the tent's set in the pines barefoot running shoes doc martens thumb to the sky pack on my back black top under bridgestones let us fly let us soar s'go i'll take you with me like my sleeping bag and skinning knife and canteen be the water that i drink fuel the fires that propel this engine drive me to the end of the road where one can only go by foot and feather and foolishness let's disappear in the fog of the north the mud of the east the heat of the south the haze of the west let's find ourselves in the topography of folded bodies tangled up in a flesh scented tent
0
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 1:53 PM UTC
compass cosmology.
a candy apple red heritage soft-tail classic on a rusted dirt road i am built of where i've been the mango groves the east and west coast and every camp-ground in canada this map is my home let me tuck you into the folds and sing you to sleep some place sweet where the air smells of earth and rain don't let the concrete tame you the road under foot is not measured by the steps necessary to travel it but the way one migrates over the breaking soil resting between where we are and where we'll be when our dreams run free and the tent's set in the pines barefoot running shoes doc martens thumb to the sky pack on my back black top under bridgestones let us fly let us soar s'go i'll take you with me like my sleeping bag and skinning knife and canteen be the water that i drink fuel the fires that propel this engine drive me to the end of the road where one can only go by foot and feather and foolishness let's disappear in the fog of the north the mud of the east the heat of the south the haze of the west let's find ourselves in the topography of folded bodies tangled up in a flesh scented tent
Sparrowfreckles
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Sparrowfreckles
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 1:53 PM UTC
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