it is something that has
made me once laugh.
and now that it is something
that is done to perpetuate
a divinity of its savoir faire,
or unfurl the evocativeness of
sartorial workmanship,
it is something that inhabits
me like an imagined pit
that a body should plummet into
and crash, having fallen off
from the boughs of a bottomless dream.
like snow or silence, drops onto its vastness and fastens in it such felicitous rigor greeting it
like an old companion, reminding
me of these unimpeachable occurrences: as a wrinkled log is petrified, where mosses pullulate to archipelagic green, where wild ivies sprawl like children in the high-afternoon, or clandestine Paraneoptera ensconced somewhere within the triviality
of demarcated stones in
the dark's cunning edge,
my body knows its peace,
all borderless without flounce
flourishing in its still life.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 1:58 AM UTC
it is something that has
made me once laugh.
and now that it is something
that is done to perpetuate
a divinity of its savoir faire,
or unfurl the evocativeness of
sartorial workmanship,
it is something that inhabits
me like an imagined pit
that a body should plummet into
and crash, having fallen off
from the boughs of a bottomless dream.
like snow or silence, drops onto its vastness and fastens in it such felicitous rigor greeting it
like an old companion, reminding
me of these unimpeachable occurrences: as a wrinkled log is petrified, where mosses pullulate to archipelagic green, where wild ivies sprawl like children in the high-afternoon, or clandestine Paraneoptera ensconced somewhere within the triviality
of demarcated stones in
the dark's cunning edge,
my body knows its peace,
all borderless without flounce
flourishing in its still life.
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