Tuesday

ars poetica

we are the thin skin
tribe
bare bone warriors
caress the weary
kiss feet
rub wounds
we live in your houses
in shelves
under beds
rest in your ear
stay awhile
dance on tongues
we ride the light
frequencies
like fire flies
eat the darkness
disparage our efforts
we see through your pain
and
shower
wreaths made of words

s.s.

1 comment:

Serena Lin said...

you. reading this. begins. to lead to inexplicable things.