Saturday, December 8, 2007

four degrees of separation


Stream your fingers
through the flames
of a mid-morning dream

and see how broken glass
broken bone
make perfect symphony

the walk

many walks
over many a earth
were made
to reach this place

many journeys


the dull, aching pieces
of a tornado
coming together

are the allowances of the heart

for when you ache
you are to break

in the slipstream
of a very cold laugh

another dream

the thing they call warm love
is so liberating;
so caging

where slivers
of your razor thin selves
over an offspring of feelings

© Rochelle Potkar