My marrow is the carcass of suns,
Molasses flowing in heavier patterns
Through the sap of space
the tongue recites fire.
My blood is spray against the soil
Scattered droplets of ocean
Warm in the memory,
wet in the mandala's dream.
My clay was once star
Nestled in the wavy hammock of gravity
And wove from the silk of light
By the calloused hands
of Logos.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment