Sunday, September 28, 2008

the moving line...

multitudes searching for equilibrium
like watching, slowly, a moving line of waves,
crashing down on a canvas of stone.
pupils fixed, and following,
the rhythm of shadows dancing in my heart,
not the cliffs.


i dangle my cistern of damage, closely
crimson eyes
letting things pry
eye; annoyingly; stares
different dirty feathers,
mud, muddy, mess
listening to insanity, and inanity
prickly kiss incinerates sight