deepundergroundpoetry.com
~from 97% to 94% or further below, the battery goes down, the 'one' music of us only intensifies..
sunday night's melodic radio
airing non-stop now... those
pretty albumed herbarium's
crispy crinkly ironed... & but
the concentrated bits & pieces
of stillness~ dryness presence-
as disintegrated rosepetals
of a wholly pressed flower..
in kinda bookish cellulosic
mix of nostalgic fragrance
-it's a delicate maturing season
of love.... after amidst so many
inner storming in fleshy deaths
an unclassifiable pleasure~ paining
soul~ crisis digs in longingly deep
as reminiscent~ happening strings
of a no-end marrying need,.
of breath birth & beyond
through the haunting husky
countless numbers coming
alive.. the rhythmic chaos
that this is. youme. us.
one. love
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