July 19, 2005

Graffiti Glass Breath

Gathering glass breath
into slushed dixie cups
chimney'd through milk wood
through worm weed
in whispers.

Marked pies with iron-crossed crust.
Heartfelt. Growing.
Red whispers.

Sliding up against
red-veined wood fences.
Slipping into character such that

white curves
twist toward
fading blue words.

Graffiti glass breath, my sweetie.

Popular chain-gang motif.

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"iron-crossed crust"--great phrase! Also "white curves/twist toward/fading blue words"--drifts in my head thru out the day. This song is one of my favorites, Cecil.

Posted by: Barbara at July 21, 2005 8:21 AM

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