I could cause a root to bloom or a bird to plummet in showers that drenches my pallid skin a toe or a foot
The uneasiness that pecks me the dullness that I wear my skin, is you The darkness gives birth to a pain that screws courage – the courage of colours casting a livid glow, to scarf up a sticking eye or a laughing brace
Oh no you are not at it; cannot be the dream of myriad tongues that I raise to my lips as a toast to nothingness, howling like a scampering wind, the topography of scars that burn my body
Pain is good, yes scars I admit are a grape juice blushing at my throat silences the sienna of words that canvass you
I could float on your words, lie still like a gull bracing the cold stiff wind cringing to propel its body forward a monster chaffing and grinding. I rise to the smell of awkwardness that bayonets the invalid air between us pure and clean as a baby’s skin innocent as it breathes, mapping the blue veins underneath the olive skin supine like a thousand year old banyan tree housing infinite travelogues of life and death, of dream and despair of tales of curios stashed away in an old China Shop.
As a poet, I may dream and conjure the conversations And in mute silence, the unexplainable, There is no word to describe this state of things, They sailed along things on their own fashion and course of ordinary interludes, On
Look at the beautiful blue sky, looks like this celestial nymph is decorated just for us. Look at these fair and bright clouds, looks like they are motivating us to reach up till them. Look at these fierce plants and
What is God- thy name be there! Had you been your equal peeper. Debate, dispute, dueling mass! Over there to save their God, do muss. I laugh thinking, “God be saved!” Ha! But I knew else that we to be