Wednesday, November 18, 2009

where the weather is perfect

Either of two points on the celestial sphere
at which the ecliptic intersects the celestial equator.

these lines, this
highway in my head,
the birds are
loving their wings right now,
pushing for the moon.
clean air, in
my lungs,
this blood runs
more red than ever
before, in love
*and death
and hearts beating themselves
into night from someone
elses hand on top.


ps: to my good friend mike, big kudos on this piece. i've been living inside it for quite awhile. :)

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