broken sentence of knots and polite whales
Resemble a season, ink filled coliseum, your sternum
quieting spotted pause.
Breath, when held, exists outside
the ten million colors distinguished by a human eye.
Certain words look better when spoken
around a bend as a quail figurine altering
itself in a tunnel outshines every resting spoon.
Stones, they say, accumulate warmth
known as wealth or active listener when held
tightly. I farmed across the creek
and on the other side your flight muscle
a misfit species befriending leaves.
stationary where e is yellow
among every other turned syllable
We’re standing with our heads
tilted barely downward, an angle
reminding us of the word “metallic”
despite the gauze of sunset.
Drastic to call a gaze meaningful
after frequent mishandlings,
poor saddlery. Certainly
we are equipped with chords
for words to tug. “Metallic” rings
watching particular setting
while this feeling atop this feeling.