Saturday, June 30, 2012

[1st found poem]


Virgin

like wilderness without
concrete caging.
In a sense, you feel it
like a flu
under your skin
FLAMING hot.
Even in winter 
it burns her path
thru the ice
and she is
so
nice.

Thru the golden
breakbeat sunset
between buildings
of december
I will find her
and rejoice
(together).

No comments:

Post a Comment