moon


Poetry and Music

Sunday, March 31

amphibian


i think you are amphibian
you survived the onward rush
of this great confluence
that hormonal gush
gash of experience
scarletted feelings
in its wake;
grey juxtapositions
of the empty days -
flotsam of every drowned swimmer
attempting this flood,
in the years that have past
i have not
i know
grown more temperate.

i think that my lips are shizophrenic
they wander gentle and soft
then hard and biting
across the desires of every moment
spent in hope
which renders me/us helpless
in this white water fate
rolling boulders
over like pibbles
in its anger
its passion
its own fate of gravity -
how is it you have survived
this alternate universe of fantasy?

how are you not stifled
by its thick velvet indigo nights
and crushed by its unreality
that specific gravity?

tectonic movements
shiver our inevitable oceans
and you are
i see it now
an iceberg singing toward me.

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