I feel pretty removed from "poetry" lately, so lets just call this little bit that follows some
random words with various degrees of meaning, lined up like soldiers to be read and understood (or not). Enter. Criticism. Hold. Me.
What do I find so appealing about
this moment that has not yet
evolved beyond breakfast
my spring loaded step quickening
tempered with a glance beyond your head
in order to finish up fast
power push but gently slow down
as if I could possibly dominate
the wildness of this moment
I will promise to hang glide into your field
later to smooth over the imprint of
my body in your autumn grass
nothing bent, everything in order as
footprints escape and fall behind
your
fantasy
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