Sunday, June 8, 2008

bow first

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.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

good to see your back too work.
Juice