orgami's Diaryland Diary

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mission pad

creek kiss hiss
bending through
the corpse of grass

like a jaundiced drink
ice fresh sluice
adjusting to its class

transatlantic flesh

the staple teeth
clasping the burdened
rip
held like glitter zippers
and a cruel grief

a chain rusting
through a branch
this cutting
moon shinning
survivors chance

purgatories touch
the statute pace
sure enough
through the iron
grate
the water
sinks
will rise
with weeping
winters crisp
and tender touch

the chapters sated
with silken strands
like a roar of storm
through greying hands

8:43 p.m. - 2013-10-19

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