Last year scars across a tangle of limbs
sweet and all the same in pales and palers
a wild-riding yell in my throat in my
face in the wind I want to call for you
thirty, some thousands of miles away I
your crazy virgin on the pedestal nobility
of mind, blah blah, blah blah "ice cream
cones and microphones" and home alones,
sweetly sewn, love thy own, o hone
thy bones, low be shone be shone
***
I'm a slave to politsophy and Plato this week. Think I found my thesis at lunch — rolling hard and fast.
um. so this is ridiculously beautiful.
ReplyDeleteErin - I wrote it so quickly, but I like it too. Anyways that was the mood I was in, big-eyed and crazy, so a well-rehearsed poem wouldn't have done, I guess, heh. Thank you.
ReplyDelete