Friday, August 8, 2008

Poetic language lingers
and touches
the tastebuds of time,
then rises in rhythms
of smoke, sound and rhyme
towards sky
and cloud reaching
higher and high,
yet

in
simultaneous
scintillations
of one
essence alive

goes way
way down,
sweet green sea water
seeping into,
right through,
fresh fertile ground.

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