Wednesday, September 26, 2007

my skin has no romance in it
until the air particles or your fingers run along it
and that holy so big sunset
only moves you inside yr gut
with photons colliding in atmosphere and hittin eye grounded neurons

but i've seen too many poets and read too many poems
where the poetry is supposed to be in the frying pan
or dog hair or newly shined shoe or watever lonely
item of this world

what i want is to feel the prepositions and adjectives and verbs and nouns
mounting and entangling in the night
cuz you better believe that there's no feeling
in this whirling universe
until its felt

until then its just one word
kissing by itself

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