Sunday, February 14, 2010


when the morning light tickles my face

I crouch and seek sleep in your warmth

and the sharp and crude calls of birds

sound like the sweetest poetry.

judy blue death vessel, nothing is precious enough

to add to this moment, we would need to

sell the first-born we may never have,

this moment before landing wakefulness

passes blind on a curve, diving for your lips

the first immersion or real time only

where i seek something better than life itself.

we’ll lie still in softness and close

while the dawn outside fills with all the light

I care to ignore for your face

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