Wednesday, 1 June 2011

Untitled scrap (May)

All these earth laws can unwind, unfold a carpet of sky
Over the heads of those transfixed by mortality
We seek a floor of other firmament for our resting place and move to the next to keep the taste
Wet, raw tangle of roots, nettle web contact
Whilst projections float on the other side of this thin wall
Opaque doorway to glitter and plastic junk
A different, junior dose of satisfaction, no reaction, just what happens
The connection, the passion, the discovery of a perfect world beyond our touching flesh in the crevice where two flaws meet, moment balanced fragile

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