tip by tip
absorb these freckles-
leave the olive eyes grey,
gazing on a stormy sky
trickling skin to sand
and let the rest curl
from my scalp to the sunset.
They'll measure my Braille
and leave the cold slab,
my visions an autobiography of
skin within.
the last stanza rocks, how one's writes will speak for you, speak your soul, well that's how I read it. :)
ReplyDeleteI've read this several times, and think I agree with Lynnaima. Anyway, I find it intriguing.
ReplyDeleteever the mind trip...being measured and parcelled out no matter the circumstance is not much fun....
ReplyDeleteooh, braille as an object of measurement- can go a couple different ways there. love that. The leaving the cold slab, vision being an autobiography within- really nice lines and the perfect ending for this piece. Great job. thanks
ReplyDeleteThis is so unique in its imagery and thought. Lovely writing.
ReplyDelete