Cerebral Core Text

A thought can stop me in my tracks
How much the winter weighs, ( there is no scale )
The days were paintings hung on eyelids of the sky
So shy we were to share a breath the space grew small
In feather boats with sails hoisting high see the e
wave crest you espy ( e s p e c i a l l y ) knew
a w a y to draw such an articulate scrawl of some inlet
Through our westering ways we read in volumes of resolvent lead
By pages years pursue water footsteps feel the airs of you
Sea lungs grew fronting in the backs
passion of the cortex ( where seabirds pale )
I think you, stop me in my t r a c k s . . .

( pray don't ever stop )




Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 1345 times
Written on 2012-12-04 at 03:39

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Dear Ghost, Loret.
by Chaucer Whethers