thin blacks as the green
fields freedom race
by my wings and wonder;
why wont she name me so
that she may release me.
i am chewing on our
future as the grim stones
of the mayan tilting towers
breathe heavy on our
shattered boiling sky eyes.
senseless fingertips reach
for yours; distance heavens.
earth's art is crumbling beneath
our heated ceramic toes; awake
and ready to reach sideways
and harder, softer and more
polite than last time.
