Tuesday, October 18, 2005

jazzin

i take you in my hands
hard yet fragile
dry now
but inside i find
you moist and
sticky
beautiful in your shape
set softly on the table
taken back to
the dawn of time
ancient ritual
drives mind to rhyme
maybe its me
jazzin
filled with your
rhythm
placed to my lips
i breathe you in
and out pours the sadness
slipping
arched
tight
nice
exhale lusty
shades of you

1 comment:

Matt Getty said...

Very striking imagery. There's a great sense of synesthesia here. Sight and touch blend in a most compelling way.