Sunday, September 28, 2014

“That wet prickle is her lip”

Casual rain the pot flood. Bent hinge slipped
onto that angel billet were an ark barges. Held
a put over let plunge the crinkle sea glut. Numb
the page is elated. Were a hostile drift dimmed
in this lifted drought that melt of such mockery.
Clothe the passage lean. Cane a seamless ocean.
Had edged by soften cataract nibs. Eyes prickle
to the salted impulse were dark and mewling.
Shadow on irradiate gullet. Crouched at false
etching. Had balanced of each swift thatching
that shielded the idle wharfs. Widen the bland
parsee. Would dusk have exile under departure
gulls. Resume the sea wash light, the creaking
rain. Subtle thorns a water bride emptied to our
cull haunt. In a thimble perish by transfigured
drizzle had condescend to weary on. Been the
delight each downy wet burnished for every
dribbling eyebrows. Brimmed by ocean tides.
Brimmed by fermented aromatics we smoked.

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