serrated-edge leaves cut the sky into hand-held portions. i'll make the heavens more portable.
i'll take the blues more light. i'll serve them with cloud vapor garnished with fireflies in a birdsnest of stars.
why isnt sorrow as delicious as it seems? little butter-pats of misery that melt on the tongue? flavoring life lightly like night skies with tears?
i'll break open the fire-hydrant of laughter on summer's twilight night, pour warmth and liquid sun into puddles on the street, and splash and jump in every crystaline sparkle of life. and why not?
i love the bitter as well as the sweet. i love the pitiful and i love the exaulted.
i love anything that burns with life, singing their surroundings and never abandoning flame or fuel.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment