cracks open the sky a ragged scar from sunrise to sunrise as all those maybes those quantum ghosts pour out on steeds of jet black night waving their swords of pure white light
kisses you on the lips the lips and grabs you by the hips the hips
runs through the fields of tomorrow laughing at the joy of just being alive at the possibilities inherent in a blade of green in a future glimpsed in a fragmentary dream
builds topless towers of idiom breaks formal language on wheels of real
sits patiently by the bed until some drowning breath lifts up its shroud and dark dust settles with one last squeeze walks out head high to few regrets debts paid plans made
is a wind swept dangerous disco dancer who never never never takes no for an answer
Russell J Turner – November 2011
Relocated
9 years ago
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