sharp crimson of longing
spreads its tenticles
through the mileage of capillaries,
deep into soft skin on the nape of the neck;
makes itself felt in the first flush,
then – the second,
before electicity echoes painfully in the gaps
between the fingers.
she slips from his hands.
my span of wings in trepidation,
resembles the beat of African drums
heard from below
on a warm afternoon:
mid-may or mid-summer, among a circle of people
whose very lives to mine,
no more than tangents to the exponent of y.
and beating wildly with the rhythm of life,
i long to keep on rising,
rinsing out of water like venom rinses out of blood
because, whatever the reason to this life,
within these veins runs music,
slipping gently in and out of life.
Posted in excerpts
Tagged african, afternoon, among, beat, beating, because, below, blood, circle, drum, drums, exponent, gently, heard, in, keep, life, like, lives, living, long, may, mid, more, music, my, of, out, people, poem, poems, poetry, reason, resemble, rhythm, rinse, rinsing, run, slip, slipping, span, summer, tangent, this, thse, to, trepidation, veins, venom, very, warm, water, whatever, who, whose, wild, wildly, wing, wings, within, y
soft thud of breath strumming broken chords,
slipping through the ribcage, stuttering out –
a sparrow sweeping out our sentence of a story
where every word’s a sibilance of sorry
a spliced splintered song of sleepless nights,
of silent mornings, stolen heights
a start and stop, a stop and start
still beating in the heart.
Posted in excerpts
Tagged beat, beating, breath, broken, chords, every, heart, heights, morning, night, our, out, poems, poetry, ribcage, sentence, shush, shushing, sibilance, silent, sleepless, slip, soft, song, sorry, sparrow, splice, splinter, start, still, stolen, stop, story, strumming, strutter, sweep, through, thud, word