A Collection of City Thoughts


Sunday, April 4, 2010

circumstance


you are the empty
the ghost
of an ocean
the hollows
of my stomach

my insides
pulled petal from petal

from the garden
each stone
is you

a drop of water

in a sea
of a thousand
stones

when i grow old
i will find you
in waves of
rippling rock

and i will lay down
upon you

with arms
opening
and closing