Monday, July 20, 2015

Inner Heat

In my molten heart,
bright colors, bright intentions,
do you feel them rise
in five beat rhythm,
in seven beat counterpoint
reaching to ripe smoke,
to the sulphur shaped
red hot stink of truth, to ash
smeared across my brow?

January 20, 2011 11:30 AM

No comments:

Post a Comment

The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

Get Your Own Visitor Map!