You do not know me,
I am but a brown mouse
yet, your brilliance slides from
the corners of my mouth
I lick my lips slow as
molasses, where it's always wet
a steady tongue, curled
I am bent
under blue layers
this eternal canalization
spears fly from your throat
condemn me to a wanting damnation
of light, not heaven or hell
good or bad, just a strange suspension
into single seconds where there is no
guessing, no quiet apprehensions
you have a strawberry tongue
and I want to touch it
it to touch me
bubble under warm, sinned spit
I cannot explain this, I will not
it's not what you think
because I know what you are thinking
you are not want or need
not desire or dream
there are no gushes running
down country streams
no sexual desire-type things
It's much flatter, there is
a far simpler truth
to gods and rock stars
and obsessions
like you.
Michelle M. Buchanan January 19, 2005
4 comments:
Thank you rea and Micheal. I really enjoy the challenges here. They kind of force something out of you. I like that.
i love this, michelle...("seconds where there is no guessing" is nice)...i want to read it again and again but not to figure anything out. rather, for the lure and sound and play. i agree with rae and michael...this is cool!
Hey thanks Lee. I'm very honored by yours rae's and michael's comments on this.
yes yes
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