Wednesday, August 5, 2015

throaty currents- electricity. i hold it
never against, but

pressed into, melted into- and now
surrounds us an orb. seasons of the year

and their sentiments do not matter, but
they are here for us. old souls.

mountains. old souls.

dare not dig this dirt to find knowledge-
we take pleasure, yes, but

without knowing why. pleasure

is without life or death.