12/4
You’d get lost
in her fractals.
Staring for hours
trying to figure out
her equation.
This was the act
of staring
in
to her eyes.
Her infinity.
Estuaries
The levies are broken.
But it was blood,
not mud,
the crept up
to our throats
and spilled out our mouths
like rivers
divulging our blues.
Pardon my attention,
to your geography
split like lazy rivers
caressing your Sunday shores.
Let’s just be bodies of water,
eroding the mountainous terrain
of your twisted sheets.
Tell each other secrets
and desires with words
of silt
and dirty each others’ minds
as if our ears were estuaries.
We’re either in
or out of it.
And if you’re in,
baby,
don’t be afraid of the undertow.
===============================================
Find your opinions and tell them to me. (I LIKE THAT PANDA!)
The Sound of Trees and Their Limbs
After decades of research and debate,
it has been determined
that in the absence of any one individual’s
presence,
a tree does, in fact,
make a sound when it falls.
We have microphones.
We have tape.
We have proof,
proof that it’s pretty darn loud.
It’s sounds kind of
almost
sorta
like
a moaning lover’s last
moments of ecstasy.
That is, before she falls off the bed and tumbles to the floor,
and giggles in a fit a blue jay and cardinal laughter.
Sorry baby.
I thought I said “timber.”
