Blood Moon
He holds the world in his stomach. He holds a pomegranate that he breaks with hands the size of my feet . . .
He holds the world in his stomach. He holds a pomegranate that he breaks with hands the size of my feet . . .
The rosebud unfolds into full bloom. Sensual breath of winter frosts over flower and diamond blossoms into being . . .
Walk with me on the empty orchestra stage where the echoes of music past saturate the air and lonely sunshine splashes across the wicked the floor our ballet feet polish smooth . . .
When I lie with my belly to the ground, I feel the heartbeat of the earth well within me . . .
I wish to be a potato farmer struck by the lightning blight so that I might set sail from Scotland and land, wrecked, on Virginian shores . . .
Push and pull of your delicate rhythms magnetized to the solar plane of my existence dance around me . . .
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