Sunday, November 24, 2013

a fragile cusp











negative space
white ice-silver-smooth
like an echo

an echo in winter

hollowed of green & boldness
twined & waiting on the fragile sureness of you
a petaled complexity
vesseled by channeled hands of trust
dressed in tea-length-edwardian melancholy
(no, not melancholy !)
that is --blue
   .....smelling of wild mushrooms, merlot & november's sky
this is--merely
white ice-silver-smoothness
tasting of first snow upon my tongue

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