June 2010
9 posts
The torrents which fall from your lips
Do―all maladroitly-mimicked sounds—lynch,
In the coiling meter of a minute
Stolen by golden ether, but still menaced;
Such flurries against those faces
Bewilderingly complacent
Will the chilled impatience
Of your words all-the-more hastened
As lateral lectures—sanctioned
On mattress-muffled implications—
Afford breath...
Listen
We fashion chemistry with cardamom
Paint our organs by rye or rum
Though whiskey begs this question:
Do you adore me—or are we in love?
The windowsill is of colours which
Stain our lives via worn and stitched
Hearts cut out for pop-up lives
The chapters all these months contrive
Blueberry smoke kisses the light,
Refracting, through which laughter glides
Imploring the room to bloom...
“Don’t soak your bridges.”
– B.A.R.
These carbon branches breathe against me
Honey-sunlight impresses the giving tree
Bright as it dances with dark conundrums
Black cherry blossoms, on past my lashes, caravan
Fireflies emulate stresses of tone our lips abandon
Blighted by naught but your own introspections
