Slipping,
we're slipping;
falling through grey skies
tongue tied into the black
Between, the wall studs
of Heaven, Hell, and and ever after.
Our lips touch and gas ignites
pulsars, shooting stars off the tips of our tongues are
the letters L, spinning through this space
you & I, O my god, dies in our hands,
coming Vectors of swirling sands in dragonfly glass
crystallizEd in the breath we gasp as the ground rises fast
to greet us with a soft crunching gravel garden
a large stone to rest our heads, hand in hand.
YOU ARE READING
Confusion in Underground Clouds
PoetryThis is a collection of assorted poems, detailing one consciousness extending and swirling into another, and another, and another.
