squeezed out like blobs of toothpaste
our souls worm their way across
plains the color and texture
of spent charcoal briquettes
leaving slimy, intersecting trails
where they have touched other souls
all of us too heavy to lift off the ground
too much gravity or too much sin?
is there a difference?
Tag: moan
Poem 20150227b
let the world be made of skin
let the world be covered in skin
so that when we walk across her
barefooted, dew clinging to our legs
a chill might run across her flesh
the earth should moan with pleasure
under our weight, as we press upon her
pressing our skin against her skin
Words and Feathers 