embodied
I wake to the clay of myself locked in its own tectonic dreaming,
blinded by the press of time's archival layering,
gravity's tough love, a yearning toward
an unreachable center.
I sublime at the jagged edge
gasping for resurrection.
I wake to the clay of myself locked in its own tectonic dreaming,
blinded by the press of time's archival layering,
gravity's tough love, a yearning toward
an unreachable center.
I sublime at the jagged edge
gasping for resurrection.
to transform from a solid to a gas, and then cooling again to a solid without becoming liquid.
Please let me find the doorway and step through it.
Copyright © 2012
Lisa B King. All rights reserved.
Web Development by
Imaginary Landscape, LLC