The clouds were never as momentous on rainy, bored days, but today (with Malacca) there is an urgent glow to the stratosphere. Photopolarization.
The firmness of rich wet dirt after the night, has grappled with bricks and spice-smell woodblocks, and a structure has built itself, like gods build muddy men. Nearly Nothing has become the enormity: you, with your hands tangled in my weedy hair, me, curled in pressure, waiting to think. Waiting for fingerprints. At last there is this: the brilliant grey sky, the solidity of stone houses, the grip of your hands-- we are waiting together, for the sun to explode. _______________________________________________ Five7Five mailing list [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://www.pairlist.net/mailman/listinfo/five7five
