untitled in tblisi
one of the holies is kisses of breeze between my fingertips when embraces of my palm dance across and whisper their secrets to the creases of my history
one of the holies is kisses of breeze between my fingertips when embraces of my palm dance across and whisper their secrets to the creases of my history
mistified the hollow wears a cloak of soft fabric a velvet veil of stardust settled hovering amidst earthly form hush a whisper carries brilliantly through the fog time is here we are now we have begu
shaded greens whisper gradually tongues of silhouetted daylight crouch like gossiping maids and cronies beneath the gentle foliage i bend to test the smell of earth dewy, musty, fertile crops of moss