grief is an action word & a fool
cloud raining foolishly cloudishly
raising the forest of your reality
where vague animals come to
drink from gunless waters.
& a billhook raised to cut a singular
orange candy accurately the sun
coughs on my shoulder I let it dry
under the eaves where the sky is
on the grass your weight a
sparrow's dirge there's always more
to all agonies and pleasures that never
wander out of our electric edens.
when the blade slices through the
two sides of the candy slide away
from each other.
we should only talk in vowels there
are only so many words to be made
dipthonging tripthonging we'll be
ents over tea-smoke
with soil-seeping rain
on my lap with each touch
touchstone
~Ajay
14/11/2019
YOU ARE READING
bliss station ~ poetry
Poetry~ where is your bliss station / you have to try to find it ~
