You.
I wake into my first thoughts of you.
It is morning.
It is dark.
I have yet to place before my eyes the light bending glass
(that will take me
from dirty milk VHS
to blue ray, sorta.)
I am in the ocean
my eyes are in the ocean
my house, the room, enveloped
we are held, drenched, floating in this sea
the sea that is you..
the youness that did not sleep or sucumb to the dark
the youness that did not blink
or push crusties from his eyes.
I am staing on the floor
You are here
Here before, between, in... through.
--
the ruff start of a poem.
You.
No comments:
Post a Comment