The past lies beneath me, a browni
Tickling through my skirt,
Picking which nerves should be pok
Asking for resurrections I can ne
The present comes to me in an eage

The moon is racing me -
She leaves white, slender paw prin
On dark, sleek train tracks
In her wake.
She gorges the

I see myself in the poppy seeds an
In the dying grass,
In the crisp, singing breeze;
Under the breadth of sky,
Atop the breast of the sea;

The stars out the window are still
Mischief about the night before.
Somewhere on the horizon,
Evening is fermenting into morning
And it is calling me for a drink.

I want break free from
Night’s overdue song.
I want to rip my teeth into
Dawn’s ripe, royal flesh -
The one that is salted

You are a tourist.
You come to rumble your wheels aro
Kissing my skin so excitedly.
New country, new land
New just about everything and you’

We are a strange tune -
Two notes that know nothing of the
But know a little something about
The dance they are dancing.
I am a tall glass of bourbon

I can see the scatter wrenching it
And skittering on the ice banks
Like a giraffe on ice skates
Running amok before me,
And oh God! something else is tum

And the Earth -
Always, the smell of the Earth ha
He always woke lost to the scent o
Soaking soil with the dust after r
A night companion that knew nothin

One hour ago and
My hours with you are spent tiptoe
With the lightning showering down
And the wind whistling around me w
Two hours now and

I’m still learning the secret to m
With the suburban, slumbering sun
And flowers locked in a jar,
Not quite sure how to grow anymore
Strict outlets char my stumbling f