An urge to stray beyond mourning, burn what
remains, gestate anew. Bubble & scatter among
tunnels deeper within. Everything passes, touch
twice & gone. An urge to hollow out the sky,
drink her waning elixir. Flatten cities & try something
else. Kiss absent lips with desire’s fingertips.
Desert Wish
- judih
- Site Admin
- Posts: 13399
- Joined: August 17th, 2004, 7:38 am
- Location: kibbutz nir oz, israel
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Re: Desert Wish
shatter the scraper sky
enough upward flow
my toes long for sand
free-flow gravity shifts
my lips yearn for lips
desire's fingertips
ray, i love your original piece
this riff gurgled out as a first association compilation
who's next?
enough upward flow
my toes long for sand
free-flow gravity shifts
my lips yearn for lips
desire's fingertips
ray, i love your original piece
this riff gurgled out as a first association compilation
who's next?
- Doreen Peri
- Site Admin
- Posts: 14544
- Joined: July 10th, 2004, 3:30 pm
- Location: Virginia
- Contact:
Re: Desert Wish
My version:Cenacle wrote:An urge to stray beyond mourning, burn what
remains, gestate anew. Bubble & scatter among
tunnels deeper within. Everything passes, touch
twice & gone. An urge to hollow out the sky,
drink her waning elixir. Flatten cities & try something
else. Kiss absent lips with desire’s fingertips.
Got any more weed?
Let's not grieve what's not over yet.
Roll it. Let's burn it!
Oh? More champagne, too?
Fill it up! Here's my glass.
I love bubbly!
Oh crap!
I told you not to touch me the first time
and now you touched me again?
Two times when I said no the first?
Stop it!
Yeah, OK, let's try something else.
You go out into that flat city
and take your fingertips with ya.
*Kiss*
Bye bye
....
Thanks for the challenge! That was way fun!
Re: Desert Wish
she's gone
her half of the closet
dust and wire hangers
ghosts of her paintings
just shadows on the walls
the house
so quiet
only the buzz
from this single malt
(or is it the tinnitus?)
time only flows forward
but I can't
not yet
not until I recalibrate
not until I return to where I was
before her
her half of the closet
dust and wire hangers
ghosts of her paintings
just shadows on the walls
the house
so quiet
only the buzz
from this single malt
(or is it the tinnitus?)
time only flows forward
but I can't
not yet
not until I recalibrate
not until I return to where I was
before her
.
"Falsehood flies, the Truth comes limping after it." - Jonathan Swift, ca. 1710
"Falsehood flies, the Truth comes limping after it." - Jonathan Swift, ca. 1710
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