secondary but flowing
endlessly through ripped out seeds
that gained soil weight on the
way to their death. supple necks
surrounded by new air
and broken glasses;
eyes that no longer carry
water.
that was magic,
so,
i still can fly.
heat beats
heartbeats in my palms with tiger sky skin and tanned eyes with red clouds. heaven sent another angel and Zen breathed again. love slathe...
