Harvest.

The rearrangement of the senses.
In the transcendentalism of emerging thoughts.

Haying in the afternoons fading heat
i tend to wander away, around                         Waldens pond

the coolness of spent shadows
make words linger in my mind.

sweaty drops lumbering down my spine       and lower
ha…..searing mind, decendes through worked muscles
–   to yawning fingertips and toes.

pink and orange colored skies, in variations –
after the horizon with cricket songs
my spirits strive

copyright (c) 2014 by franzad
written for dVerse

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Past Tense Draft

sewed on gaping chest, your heart suits you

screaming fear of rotten breath

tell me my child of thousand words

how was it that i lost myself amongst so many

 

far too long have you been bleeding

my kisses lack the ability to heal your wounds

only deeper do they chase the embers inside you

thoughts disintegrate like ice in sweet water

 

hooded sidles age of mapping structure

on every moment past in details

i mastered every stage of acting

around your vacuum feeding breasts

your theeth sunk deep in flesh and bones

i dare you to leave the cold earth hiding

 

copyright (c) 2012 by franziska dirnberger