Saturday, November 30, 2013

through all, of all

when the city was not inviting enough
and the dreams not punch-ed card into the realities of destiny 
when rains were too dry 
and I was living with hosts of marinated magnolias 
and half truths and stubborn lies

I found you 
like the holy book 
and war 
as the dawn of the river titicaca 
and the sunset of serengeti
and my verbal masturbation
and myriad fantasies, 
of all, 
through all,
of all.

No comments: