and before you,
i dig with a needle, an arm and a leg
i haven’t decided whether i should jump off the cliff or jump into you
but, the voice i once heard from the ripples in the lake, now respond with whirred silence
blackberry shaped kisses on my being
etched from the hand of my mother
i’ll give you lemon drops and hot tea
if you are willing to burry me in a cloud of forgiveness
lick my open wounds, and i’ll jump into you
or if the cliff lives above my head, catch me

--f
----a
------l
--------l
----------i
------------n
-------­-------g

colours

                                lurid skeehc era uoy
                                and you are gnillaf
                                of boughs bent
                                (in wind writhing)

you are lovely
little dead things
         littler perfect cluttered
                   dead things

                                                 suoroloc  R U
                              gnittor esool fo bits ni
                        sretnilps

you amble the earth
        calmly exploding
                     (and you crunch
                              so distinctly
                                   under my patient tread
                                               ing soles)
                            


i mark them
and i proceed
living and dying
(like you colours)
die like living
i live like dying

F
                               a
                                                        l
     ­                       l                            
            ­                                                                 ­       i
                                    n
           g

                                           d
                                                               ­                                  o
                                                               ­      w
              n

.
.
.
                                        ­                                                                 ­         𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵 !