orgami's Diaryland Diary

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July

there are stacks
in the boxes
cleaned like the
empty dishs
and the water stained
glasses

you are a room
filled with prints
where we wandered
leaning this way
and that
teaching ourselves
the lies and the
play of the catch

the virgin paged bible
with the twenty dollar
bill your brand new
clothes and the stale
old thrill

I can taste the history
on the rise of your throat
and the territory tickets
in the pocket of your coat
we examine
and imagine
in pool recipratory
touch the hesitant
design we give so
much

there is majestic calamity
in close proximity
the hot breath sustenance
and the wind
wends its way
through birch limbs
slender and peeling
the white naked flesh

2:39 p.m. - 2011-06-10

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