orgami's Diaryland Diary

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p-133

sometimes its numbers
not words transferring
links and sounds
next its going to be
rain on the glass blowing
for awhile aways yet
though of course

i remember the coats
on the hooks at home
the jangle of keys
and change in the dish
for coffee and the
pastries

the feel of the engine
turning over beneath
the sculpted hood
eight cylinders then
of simplified mechanics

light flicks like a summer
fly wavelengths in beat
pattern against the dust
I once held the dusky
ruin to my chest
and heard the ocean sighs
within its gloom

"Haunted" you spoke in
dreamspeak tapping the lid
with your polished clear
tipped nails like glass

"I would be too if you
would only see your eyes
the way I do"

shivered in the depths
free from the fire
to count the stars falling
slow
like chalk ghosts
iridescent wishs
portent kisses

3:23 a.m. - 2012-02-15

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