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high tide

 
 
 
 
 
southern harmonics
never die-
 
the bones lay down
running

while tendons fold beneath hands
born to play.
 
emancipated ears
strain toward captured
chasms of sound,
those grooves that spiral
through us,
 
each as abyss, a grave
to mark the markers
passing,
 
an epitaph
carved into vinyl.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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Comments


  • Cinnarry gold member
    April 1
    Edit | Reply
    "an epitaph
    carved into vinyl."

    Incredible line, worth stealing even.


  • Rowan gold member
    March 31

    Edit | Reply
    Cin-cin will love this. No bitch-slappin for this one... lol.
    "the bones lay down
    running"
    I loved that line, such a restless kind of sadness in it. The things left undone. Excellent work kate.