Roll beads of earth aside
Bowed shoots are coming out
Like stories in a bar
Soil mutters, softens like fat
It is twitching
A breeze has frost
And white tendrils reconsider
Even your body is not sure
But everywhere I touch you
There is dew
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Monsieur Norge! 'Tis good to see pen hit paper. Or fingers hit keyboard. Or however you do it. There are some great images here and I'm always a fan of couplets; they work especially well here. I have some other comments that I'll share in person.
ReplyDeleteThanks! I didn't know you commented - I thought the website would email me if anything was going down. ...
ReplyDeleteI'd love comments. I'm not quite happy with this yet. I think it needs to get quieter - muted, like you are going underground - in 3; then our ear & the brightness is supposed to be a little frightening in 4 - we are afraid of being overwhelmed by too much to the senses ... then back to the voice in 5, which is not coming from the shoots. But I don't think I'm really hitting those notes in 3 and 4....
beautiful, toano. the last bit catches me by surprise and gives me shivers and belly flutters.
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