Tuesday, May 12, 2009

smoke on the water

the sun slumps low
drags the tide down with it
and the harbor smells hung over,
hurled up, sour, locked out on the stoop.

this april just hangs on us;
wet laundry draped from the door knob,
the morning after our long moans got drowned out in the concave of one another's mouths
and the fog steamrolled over our sound.

1 comment:

chelsea jade said...

i hope you dont mind,
i read your blog secretly.