So here we are
with words, fingers,
sighs & spaces,
saying nothing
in these same words
over-worn & overwrought
breaking ideas into pieces
for a pound of flesh
mine for yours
many too much
wine back to water
salt of the sea
The weather is watching,
always changing
nothing
how we breathe.
Ah, so beautiful!
ReplyDeletefeeling the air
ReplyDeletewe stop
so here
ideas can grow
into wrinkled
pieces
for all that changing and
streamimg free of range
to the once lost in a
library of eyes
thier roots always reached into pools of stone
into the tiny grey light