the hum of cars vibrates under my feet,
in beat to the slap scuff rhythm of
runners' half second connection to the street.
ignoring the automatic need to define,
we suspended above
rushing water on an impossible incline.
collective - we two;
an all encompassing hope
that please, just maybe,
this is the beginning of a new rope.
(baby mice)
6.09.2010
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the air is fresh in my nose
ReplyDeleteit begins to drip a like a hose.
i brush it, and look over at you.
the slope slopes the wrong way
its not impossible though.
new rope
like, totez dope.
YUR GRATE
ReplyDeleteplate
inflate
expatriate
feel this
squeal, miss!