im realizing
that even when relaxing
im grasping at the air
feel need to hold
what's not there

when the cold in your stare
brings me 'round
to the ground
and im all ears again
making fear a friend
before it gets the better
of us

keep em close
keep em close
embers in your pocket
dont let the wind
turn suspicion
to a rocket

i've flagged down the last cab

ground herbs

a phrase that can emit,
in the mind of the reader,
all senses :

rasping
sound
of pestle to mortar
stone to stone
to skin
touch
of rosemary
or mint
redolence
and a hint
of the green
of the leaves
seen

the
taste
in all of our mouths
dredge and nectar
ever present

are two words not enough
to describe?
or are they
all to much