Followers

Saturday, September 18, 2010

pastures

i follow her gaze
because she is
'nothing to speak of'
and i've
nothing to speak on.

the grace of her lips
become bluish
in the hesitant culture
of pioneering
new ground;

eyes closed,
gripping rigid breath;

hands all over
in open intensity;

tongue in cheek;

a grain of salt.

sweat.

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