woozy when they waved out from behind
teeth, to the land across several
tracks and threads of water.
dizzy the currents stirred and whirred
and stuck-smash in a face—your
face, wind whipped and tender.
a flood flung and hung about your
hair, your bones newly bathed beneath
this luxury to see; a splendor to soften, soak.
1 comment:
Stephen,
I looked at your blog, having posted your comment (how you came upon MY schmuckery is a mystery to me, but so, often, is life), and although it will take me some time to process these pieces, I'm very impressed. Once, a million years ago, when I was a poet too, I hoped to express myself this well. I never really got there. You, on the other hand, have some marvelous stuff here. Thank you.
Vote tomorrow.
Tim
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