Thursday, March 25, 2010

Novice - Éireann Lorsung

All absence creates is longing. Therefore between bells
I linger. I taste
what keeps with wind through
stones. Here are a hundred sisters who cannot
be enough: routine
is tonic, perfect
shift from sound to silence to sound but the fruit
of the tree is knowing
outside the clouds are moving,
the water is moving, hands
are moving across bodies
never mine. I can smell
those hands.

2 comments:

Rondell said...

ring ring
that's a sound of
a taco
bell
red sauce on my lips
taqueria tamale
baby make it grande
ooh you just go straight to my hips!

(c)Rondell Jenkins 2010

Bieber said...

http://flbeach.blogspot.com/