sun slips through fingers'
tips my eyes catch glimpses of the
yellow like half-moons but
being full suns gliding
through wrists moving in
full twists
keyboard-catch they are
more than hints of yellow jazzing in
eye-blips i keep thinking the sun
shines there and that roses grow
from my fingers in yellows -
they are so quiet
so they play only between the keys
and some triangle occasional cymbals slice
hands catch my eye
i think they are sun
shines every single time
and i sheen a bit deeper
every time
and then equilibrium catches
up with grateful
every time
seasofme061116parallaxis
YOU ARE READING
body
Poetrymy personal favourites in one book. these all come from older collections. hardly any of the media belong to me
