July 7, 2011

a little travelling music...

saturnalia scratching at the door

mooring with the tides
surfactanting my hide
only brings blood
to my worn eyes
whereas I might feel
time steeped as tea
in glory steamed
and memory horded
for the rain that
I love to listen to
beneath the broad
canopies of trees
in deep deciduous Summer
I know love
fears as little or
as much as I do
when faces turn insane or
explain how I might be
following nothing
but my heart
I've set on fire
making wishes
in all the
I float by
on the postcards
by my bedside
waiting to dance
with the dawn


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