Tuesday, September 11, 2012

a view into the evening

Eyeless fish swim about a buried treasure
drowned in the cold sweeping of salt over gold.
pictures of
promise washing over speech

a hundred years tug along
and whereabouts now only known
like the sign at the crossing of a road

what if freedom casts a shadow like
a closed window marking the way out
and before we go
reaches through space as
breath dances whole over us and swallows night
and removes everything
floating us back in two into
what love is


1 comment:

Whatever said...

You don't have to know it, you feel it right.
And form here I can hear everything,
it's whisper burns my ears
a thousand disassociated ideas
all about Love.