Friday, #12
this sky is the glass and water that is you
your lips are two slips patting each other
on the buttocks
the only danger here, tomorrow
and the only hope, night
if you were just to turn left,
conversation of past lives leads to
mild understanding
turn right, and the sides of faces
are all drawn in silhouette
"Your lips are two slips patting each other on the buttocks" -- how much more sensuous can a pair of lines be?
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