Wednesday, 12 February 2014

Loveweak II

the most loving don’t breathe a word of love
in odd lateral threads that dumbly snake
out of nostrils and back, somewhere above
the sore pinhead of years of stuck mistakes

know them by the coolness of their shadow,
by their gentle hands, and palms of leaf shapes
cupped into a mudmoon, incandescent glow
of a million lampborn miniature landscapes

the seahorse ribbons in the oceans of time
the razor coral thorns, barbed as dreamnails
tear the blooddark spaces of valentines
tear up frozen endbuds of limplove tales

the most loving don’t breathe and speak lovebuds
just smooth the disturbed nap of velvet blood

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