i fall into dreamsrarely jasmine, never stillfabrics, often silk sometimes perhaps seemingly incompletelike the petals of a fuchsia rosescenting the cobblestone streets nights and daysaromas, lean against my skinsoul of a rose, scenting the inner wildlands and i fall...
ask the hawk, he knows how you take my love across wild roses’ bedand tie the bottom corners to my ankles how i feel the fading, the silk, and the sweet scentof the deepening how morning shadows can stretch us,re-shape us, twist us, eventangle us but never break us...
