The taken
I know nothing of watermelon skies
only the hummingbird wind knows
how to fly with an open mouth.
I have tried to explain
the sky's too big.
The wind will never learn.
But I cannot under any pretense
remain naive
I must learn. I have to.
The angst of recondite wisdom.
The stillness of indecision
within the taken.
A fluttering hollow street
running on piled up autumns
in search of footsteps.
And I plunge
into the old fragmented human heart
the night made stone of.
I foresake all sadness wider than the
mouth of your neck.
Only the one's that can be swallowed
and remain etched in immobile currents
colliding into choleric stones
under the dung of a dead sea gull.
First Posted - 6/28/2006 8:03 PM
only the hummingbird wind knows
how to fly with an open mouth.
I have tried to explain
the sky's too big.
The wind will never learn.
But I cannot under any pretense
remain naive
I must learn. I have to.
The angst of recondite wisdom.
The stillness of indecision
within the taken.
A fluttering hollow street
running on piled up autumns
in search of footsteps.
And I plunge
into the old fragmented human heart
the night made stone of.
I foresake all sadness wider than the
mouth of your neck.
Only the one's that can be swallowed
and remain etched in immobile currents
colliding into choleric stones
under the dung of a dead sea gull.
First Posted - 6/28/2006 8:03 PM
posted by Abhra at 11:50 AM
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