Sunday, November 9, 2014

i hope

i hope 

i want to climb into your lower gorge
feast on any assumptions made about my
crick rocks glistening cold sun be took for
a ride on a whim rhymes with us
busted slate and lime wall headboard of an
i dont mind a hike hipbones
you hold the while echoes for canyons
a white shirt on the ledge surrenders
the wind backs a steep one
i hope them brown feet sturdy

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Bree loves to know whatchu thinky.