Winter 2013/14

30.

My precious Sea.

I'm at your feet.

I'm begging you.

To wash away my dead.

To wash away my judgement.

Which ghosts around 

My yellow world.

Which leads today

into

inadequacies

of mustard'y tomorrow...

 

Do not pause on the Day of Love, sweetheart. There is no betrayal. Or debt of any sort. There is only utopia's of our unpolished thinking...

 

 

(... black holes of the Milky Way.)

by Brigita Stasun