a current.
warm flashes, scalding snow into vapor
rutting into terra and firm
firm pulses.
bleed into these fibers.
i beg you.
crunch and snap and swish me away.
let the reverb sink into the leaves,
the echoes and hills
rejoicing over what they’ve captured
we shouldn’t, really
shush.
the trickle and the trail. in moving and feeling.
- Feb. 16, 2015, 10:25 a.m.
- |
- Public
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