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Turn It Up.

Sunday, November 22, 2015

Fantasy 10 : Chase


Every morning, smoke settles
Into water,
Into horizons,
Into teeth.
Smoke makes its home
In clouds and domes,
On treetops,
And on golf greens:
Giggling, squirming,
Tickled by ecstasy.

Smoke knows no hurry --
Wisp by wisp it consumes blood;
Swirl by swirl it drinks
Rain on concrete,
Hillside dew,
Tarmac love;

Brick by brick it binds;
Floor by floor it rises;
Cell by cell, it smirks;
Bird by bird,
Star by star,
"I weave you, ray by ray --
The sun is yours?
The sky is mine!
I'm absolute", it laughs.


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