If you are gulping at the stars;
Why not, take the cup to your lips;
Make the smudged red off your lipstick;
Color the blushing of fiction science.
If the moon responds to create any kindness;
Arrest him and don't ask for him to die but write;
The voice that takes a train in a peaking light;
Ask the creator, to touch its perfume -
silver gray hills, open hands absorbing orchids.
copyright 2010
