finally spring (not a poem, words)

[starfrosting]

I think I smell the river, some form of g-d,
the night air's cold and smells of straw, mud and saffron I mistake for silt
rising up solid and murky, pulsing like it does
the half moon hung high in skinny blooming branches
I can feel everything,
reaching

* * *
Further proof: there was so much chest hair in my Sovereignty seminar yesterday.

Comments

[transubsituated.livejournal.com]

Haha! I hardly remember chest hair, I was feeling so unwell I was ready to pass out.

Hope you get uptempo soon.

[agoraphiliac.livejournal.com]

Not a poem--ok, if you insist.

I accept your proofs, all of them.