Lay still,
where the roads cross +
the heat rises in waves and the air sweats.
One in red that spills excess threads like sewing time or running blood,
one in white flowing like a gentle gail.
They press the night and fold it into dawn, light birthed out of the womb.
All sides are visible at once, in an instant flashing the length of eternity.
At the end you’ll find me waiting, my grey robes stripped and beating at the bones of love,
weeping trees hang from nooses hung around our throats. We’ll kiss in the mist that swarms
and hugs, squeezing tightly warmed by us.
I remember -
I saw the moments fall in chasms, I heard the screaming clock ticking backwards slowly into
water. Stagnant. I waited.
Still, in the end you found me still, laying still, where the roads cross +
our arms meet,
the sky in four chambers
thunder beats.
The heat rises in waves and the air sweats, our excess
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.
