The mountains yawn morning wise
dispelling such Christmas wrapping fog as
time, distance, no letters, the cold
They roar some barbarian
morning wise groan of I AM.
And we, their witless am-less subjects,
are struck.
Suddenly I must open my mouth to breathe
breathing like licking ice
injesting mouth to mouth
from the mountains morning wise
such a violent kiss.
nov 28, 08
1 comment:
that's beautiful j.
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