Saturday, May 12, 2012

Slipping Still Silent

withering playfully into
flawlessly mechanical and efficient
like the ancient art of letters
rubbing our shadows off walls
mind gliding hill sweeping
heels slip sweating

the skin
this inherited reality
writes in its own language
writing in each other like the
flowers growing in your blood



Akeith Walters said...

Very nice writing.

Rosita Anderson said...

"rubbing our shadows off walls"
"flowers growing in your blood"


Whatever said...

I hear his non-feet
tip toeing over the invisible banana peels
as god falled over my resting body
waiting forever
for this
to make me mean it
like only you can.