Sunday, June 8, 2008
Was there anything that couldn't be done. That long lean back turning the earth, turning minds young and old. More graceful than the best dancer, thoughts that make a scholar feel lazy, stamina that would make a boxer stumble. The beauty of a rained upon pine. The fragrance, unforgetable. Forgive me for being lost in her beauty.
Sun baked mind, far fetched eyes, crippled gesture. Billow, bellow, ball, fall down false prince. Forgotten language, imagined past, forged future. Water rushing, back straining, eel traps dead ahead. Course cleared, brow wiped, struggle now with that grip. Blister, a bit of pain, fatigue haunts. Tongue to broken tooth, smell the sweet sulfur, bow first into the swirlling eddy.