Sunday, January 03, 2010

Make

every breath

is so much wind-rinsed dust

every breath

begins a thought unsaid

 

till sweetness

turns speech in two-three tongues

till dreams

drop like calm climbing touch

 

on legs

galloping deep in the night

to legs

that blossom asleep in bed


_

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what we are built for

in the days when the kids were smaller and my parents younger and they lived here  six months of the year                                   ...