forest fries

rollings
rollings unknown Posts: 7,127
edited September 2013 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
no I'm not going to bare to you my soul
virgin moss on five hundred fifty year-old trees
a woman's to a man's love

If I told to you about the arc
the century and the duel
seven blazen warriors
the source of the sun and
face paint

I sense or doubt that's where it's at
the D note, the C clef
the A minor seventh
hold my they
sing of it
trembelo
utterance of night
uproar from a dark place
crack in the deeper forest frying

how the air expands and fills
every possible no matter how unseen space
the void doesn't
have a chance
neither does me not loving you

from the tinkliest star
eyes closed

this even if it were close
I can barely touch it
because I truly
don't know

but if I were to begin
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