Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Open Weave Dance

Walking with eyes almost closed.  Posed in a wishing place.
The woods smell busy.
Keep me buoyed up to go, the toad breaking away from my palm.
The chipmunks breaking in to see, to smell.  They will tell me their truth.

Oh, I’m going to miss this kiss of light falling down on grey purple ducks.  Asian strangers taking photos.  Me, getting one of the group then disappearing by the side of the trail, falling down, into the marsh.
Meeting a savoury physician.  Draping me in gowns.
A pearl in the dark.

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