My generally dormant mind wanders;
Traveling to places so divine...
The billabong booms with the kind of
blokes and bush rangers that rest bundy...
I've avoided the passage that led to your dwelling...
but fingerprinted walls and canvasses of your face...
You are
sweaty palms to face, clogged pores...
Beneath an archipelago of clouds, I find myself
thumb wrestling with words, placing dreams...
Before love came, she already
knew that its arrival would...
My voice isn't quite the way I want it to be:
soft, like a Scotch mist, but also pounding...
##############
A follow up to...
Free Verse
by: Rania Moallem...
On sunny days, you feel like a tourist; you
chew on a canary-coloured straw, and stop...
My dearest mother, You left us all
Walked out the door,And let us fall...
I'm a filing cabinet of records that holds dates...
reasons and insentives, agendas and dreams...