Post by Cy Skywalker on Oct 17, 2006 16:08:04 GMT -5
Once I set my hands around the cup of caf
(of imagination’s cocoa, dripped into the day)
burning in the pliant palm-skin,
more ferocity can be set against shivering.
My shoulders lick like companionable porcupines
the prickling spines of morning’s cold.
~*~
October sweeps through the gray-floored streets
pushing ahead and behind the heat-colored leaves.
Through my hands, the only warmth, the muses speak;
something burns within each man enslaved by Hallowe’en.
(of imagination’s cocoa, dripped into the day)
burning in the pliant palm-skin,
more ferocity can be set against shivering.
My shoulders lick like companionable porcupines
the prickling spines of morning’s cold.
~*~
October sweeps through the gray-floored streets
pushing ahead and behind the heat-colored leaves.
Through my hands, the only warmth, the muses speak;
something burns within each man enslaved by Hallowe’en.
