Litkicks Message Board Archive


Posted to Action Poetry

i will count the skies,
capture winds,
name them blue or quick
or me.

wrap my fingers
around the tender foundation
of life's finest hour
breaking on soft shores
of cloud white sand.

bleach air,
pull the pigments from the
sound. dye the silence
paler than the morning's
breast, rising and falling.

the horizon coughs:
orange explosion,

our lull latches on
to purple
and sinks.