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Apr 2018
bruised by rainbows
that bang the ends
of time--
abstracted to coursing
freedom.
cut off by rote--
your tethers whistle.
a melody that's
shame to the stranglehold
of ears--
the sounds of paths
never crossed.
the length of life's lipless
kiss,
soft as leaves trained
on the naked eye
of a tree.
how frictive, enter &
exit, so bright i forgot
to see.
only felt for the
precipitating steps
of feeling.
you wear a saint's
combustive head--
sending rare flowers
to hang from the
edge of the earth.
Onoma
Written by
Onoma  NYC
(NYC)   
  256
     Kelly Rose, Onoma, xy and Wordmancer
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