163 Readings | 0 Ratings

to gallop finally into the Milky Way

 

with asking my hands paper the walls

half-truths resurrect and a half-life goes by

as apples soften to previous lives

of falling

 

does the fruit, it must,

contain the blossom?

 

haloed in leaving the backdoor describes the impossible

         love of a thousand horses

                                     galloping over the cracked floor of the sea, up to the stars

 

I can’t recall

a more exquisite consummation

 

 

like eating a blue apple

 

putting my hand in a brick

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Posted 02/20/14
Appeared in Bateau
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