toppling the gait
of trees in the bluster.
we do not like it when it rains.
under the melee, kamagong lay
idly with the gravity of fruit ripened.
at long last, touching ground.
in this knell
i regard you as plaything
take drippy measures and harness
cues for thrusts.
the span of the shadow plastered
to the wall means the silence is as deep
as the rain outside,
all up from the unfurling corner
of walled up tango-stride, ripping apart
the linoleum with dance.
i may become a daub of perfume
and you, maybe a smile on my face
passing as it rained.
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 10:32 PM UTC
toppling the gait
of trees in the bluster.
we do not like it when it rains.
under the melee, kamagong lay
idly with the gravity of fruit ripened.
at long last, touching ground.
in this knell
i regard you as plaything
take drippy measures and harness
cues for thrusts.
the span of the shadow plastered
to the wall means the silence is as deep
as the rain outside,
all up from the unfurling corner
of walled up tango-stride, ripping apart
the linoleum with dance.
i may become a daub of perfume
and you, maybe a smile on my face
passing as it rained.
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