Wednesday, August 25, 2010

up too late (no edting)

tender angles
I hope that feline motor sings you dreams so sweet,
So sweet the birds won't be able to touch your morning.
behind the eyelash curtains
possibilities play out their caramelized rehearsals
with every run-through it gains in gossamer and tension
it's the small movements that matter the most
In that magic geometry all the angles mattered,
even those measured by touch alone.

When you smashed insects out of their twilight lives
some of their wings flew back into the night

Scratching for the rent money,
I let the eyes fractal over;
the desperation stratifies my dreamspace.

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