Eyes and skies a fuzzy crystal blue.
A sunlit shouldered sensation
and smirking hips and lips
without vibration
a scorched summer driveway in heat
all to my bare feet,
not a single regret.
just fingers-full of rings
and things and cigarette.
Friday, May 13, 2011
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Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
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it's not possible. I think the problem must be- too much love and hate.
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there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
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When standing in a garden of profundity everything loses it's meaning... and when stopping to smell the chromatic wisdoms you are lost i...
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August 2003! A spree, and the W.A.P another month of you and possibly me W.A.P stands for wild animal park, if you don't remember- the ...
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husband and I trek a mile for ice cream just for the creamy banana, crunchy pecans, and chunks of thumb-sized chocolate. shoes flipping and...
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Another Indian woman living on our block has hair swept back and braided has jeweled toes, is in all yellow traditional regalia, and walks w...
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The Anchor for Joel When love embarks, with its generating propellers slicing through the interminable oceans of imperfection that are, for ...
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hunger is sometimes preferable to loneliness. a stomach will twist- but hands become dirty and heavy when full of coins.
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Tickling toes- there was something about that barefooted madness something about that wistful waist-high wishing and wooshing in the woods, ...
Beautiful small stone. Love the "scorched summer driveway" description.
ReplyDeletethanks Judith! :)
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed this read a lot. I can't seem to find the word to describe it but it surely touched me, thank you :)
ReplyDeletehave fun at the rally!
http://lynnaima.wordpress.com/2011/05/21/in-the-land-of-pretense/