Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Churning, Churning, The Waters Seep and Sway

how loud your heart is calling, love,
how close the darkness at your breast,
how hectic are the rivers, love,
drawn through your dying wrist.

and love, what heat your frail skin hides,
as pure as salt, as sweet as death,
and in the dark the red moon rides
the foxfire of your breath.

z out

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hey asshole, let's make a deal:

You update your blog, and I'll stop calling your mom a whore.

The correct term is prostitute.

-Ben

Monday, October 30, 2006 at 7:15:00 PM EST  

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