19 June 2012

Sisyphus and cinquains

her knot of skin fell loose
writhing in a holy lump
ground that stroked her face 
held my feet
an introduction 
between trembling
my name and hers
refine our permanence
here on this grass
shit on my shoe
blood on her lip
Oh Massachusetts
what is it I'm without
into the curled embrace of dissonance
wrists outstretched
a permanence in this wind
tattooed into my secret tongue
into time
when I talk about 
what I don't believe in
my disloyalty 
I am not tied
to Sisyphus and cinquains
Browning's edge
and mine
our syllables gleaming

1 comment:

Brian Miller said...

smiles...wish i wasnt tied to pushing the rock...but then again some days i am the tatoo on the secret tongue...lots of grit in your description as well...