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julianaPoems
Sleep is timed to the minute, my breaths let out lazy smoke icicles make goose bumps into paragraphs books written on my arms through yellow mist bare feet in the morning on my rooftops counting international planes in the sky. My migrant bones take to the sky, each moderate minute that passes by on my rooftops, increases the rawness of smoke like lung-fulls of lemon mist spewing a nebula of paragraphs. In the murk of paragraphs red papery ashes explode into the sky leaving a cloud of syllable mist. The last fragile minute reduces my shivers to smoke, a winter shell of shoulders on rooftops. Double exposed film across rooftops turn silhouettes into paragraphs, a congregation of vapours and smoke speaking soliloquies into the sky. I am minute, dissipating into canary mist. Billows of ocean mist make my fingers melancholy on rooftops where a tidal minute freezes salty foam paragraphs a vacation from the sky, my mossy perch and violet smoke. Heliotropic smoke spirals against dense mist; fine rain blinding the sky soaking lemonade rooftops. My bed of paragraphs curls into an illegible minute. The lilac smoke in my eyes is almost minute. A mustard mist wrinkles the paragraphs, like the purple sky dropping over the rooftops.
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Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
Sestina 2 - Mouths
Sleep is timed to the minute, my breaths let out lazy smoke icicles make goose bumps into paragraphs books written on my arms through yellow mist bare feet in the morning on my rooftops counting international planes in the sky. My migrant bones take to the sky, each moderate minute that passes by on my rooftops, increases the rawness of smoke like lung-fulls of lemon mist spewing a nebula of paragraphs. In the murk of paragraphs red papery ashes explode into the sky leaving a cloud of syllable mist. The last fragile minute reduces my shivers to smoke, a winter shell of shoulders on rooftops. Double exposed film across rooftops turn silhouettes into paragraphs, a congregation of vapours and smoke speaking soliloquies into the sky. I am minute, dissipating into canary mist. Billows of ocean mist make my fingers melancholy on rooftops where a tidal minute freezes salty foam paragraphs a vacation from the sky, my mossy perch and violet smoke. Heliotropic smoke spirals against dense mist; fine rain blinding the sky soaking lemonade rooftops. My bed of paragraphs curls into an illegible minute. The lilac smoke in my eyes is almost minute. A mustard mist wrinkles the paragraphs, like the purple sky dropping over the rooftops.
part of my sestina series
juliana
Written by
juliana
Canadian
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
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