I work now with a fever;
One single moment with my eyes closed
Produces an entire universe
That flickers before me,
Four seasons ten fold,
And a crystal blue sky
That wakes me with a smile
To tell me that I’m not alone today.
My nimble hands twist,
Grip, Dance,
And tighten around the wet cloth
Attached to my loins
Cooling the pitch
Of which I sing at.
Tag: pitch
Thrice See Thrice Blind (day 851)
My fingers have turned to dust
Allotting memories two square feet
Of layered hemp paper
Verbally spewing thoughts
That catch like pitch
To unwritten scripts
I’m lost
I’m good with maps
Thine eyes, thrice see thrice blind
Then too shall winds sweep
Lifting footsteps laid deep
Leaving unwritten the paths going back
Perfect Pitch (day 412)
The perfect pitch that follows me around town
Through the back of the bushes with a hand of her skirt
Down the cobblestones on the squeaky bike
Over the bridge with the perfect arc
And the crystal clear water with the biggest fish around
The same one that whispered in my ear as I sipped on the morning tea
Admiring the speed at which the croissant oiled the paper it came wrapped in
That stopped the spread of a thousand tiny crumbs
Through the hair that felt good today
And the warm sun that easily was enjoying the morning as much as I
This is the breath that I inhale as I think
That pushes me forth into the pastures so free
And gallantly holds my head up high as I
Hold up my hand and shout the perfect pitch that rattles through my teeth
This is how I stretch in the morning, inviting the day to begin