Monday, March 18, 2024

tremulous notes

 a kind of noble rot,

the wormwood works

winding wordlessly

thru the ear,

in a cellar deep,

deeper below,

the wild promises

passion beckoning,

so so so quiet, lips like ever slowly licking,

like this...we like it, we do.

Hidden meetings, deepest farther,

a kind of choice is made, for all the others.

Finally, the wine is popped

the dress lingers in the shadows

tomorrow floating on some rack.

A contrast landscape

every green imaginable,

the perfect space and distribution of life.

a kind of beautiful thing,

a kind of harmonious sound,

a kind of idyllic course,

a kind of bio bless;

i am wound wordless

stricken and lovely now.

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