Sense quickly tricks quietude;
the indigenous port of a solitary
woman’s throat descants
her spiral partsong.
“My life is a mediocrity.”
goes the first voice.
The volcano peaks pour theirs,
listless clouds purl theirs,
the cleaved meats seep theirs,
and her sensible eyes embark therefore.
“My blessing is expected.”
states the second voice, inviting the
only burning wicks of sound
to note her.
Ray Succre (email@example.com)
Sent on 11th January, 2008
Ray Succre currently lives on the southern Oregon coast with his wife and baby son. He has been published in Aesthetica, Coconut, and Pank, as well as in numerous others across as many countries. He tries hard.
For inquiry, publication history, and information, visit me online: http://raysuccre.blogspot.com