Skip to content


December 6, 2016

bend of ear
curl of foot
meet of minds
falling into rhythm

corners, turns,
gatherings and returns,
nothing is the same
except the things that are

how we live
is our own poem,
what we show to the world

sometimes we are compelled
to turn it into shapes, steps,
tunes, spaces, words,
multicoloured and gaunt
and psychedelic and plain
and all stops along the way

I have forgotten more
than I will never know,
into the night

No comments yet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: