You are something I'm not sure about
like why leaves sometimes fall and sometimes float
or waves sometimes break and sometimes don't.
The sound of us trickles in the streams I pass.
It's in the steady beat of feet and concrete
and it's the quiet refusal of moss to make a single sound as two feet pound.
But another pair might make a sound? Wake the ground? If I churn out rhymes will you get in line?
I'm a single set of feet
crassly attached to a fog and wind and atmosphere of you.
For you are as present as the hawks that circle and the fog that rests
and equally hard to touch.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 1:24 AM UTC
You are something I'm not sure about
like why leaves sometimes fall and sometimes float
or waves sometimes break and sometimes don't.
The sound of us trickles in the streams I pass.
It's in the steady beat of feet and concrete
and it's the quiet refusal of moss to make a single sound as two feet pound.
But another pair might make a sound? Wake the ground? If I churn out rhymes will you get in line?
I'm a single set of feet
crassly attached to a fog and wind and atmosphere of you.
For you are as present as the hawks that circle and the fog that rests
and equally hard to touch.