Saturday, August 21

Fuck You Mr. Waking Mountain

I thought a lot about you while facing that adobe wall
flooded with images
playing over and over again
fooled again
by this:


i miss you. don't know why. your a fucking pathetic walking mountain. a tender, angry, absorbing, withdrawn, romantic, shut down, deeply reflective, dark, creative, sinewy, untouchable, distantly close, magnetic walking mountain.

boy, oh boy, am i projecting again...

i want to feel your earth mix with mine
moist and dewy
like pacific northwest ferns
opening to the coastal winds
full of all the promise of where we left off
i want to mix with you in my core
see you wrapped up in colors of organic plum
behind my hair
feel you in my ears
nails under skin
hear the multitudes of stories in all these layers 
meeting somewhere deeply with mine

but still
i say fuck you.

fuck you mr. walking mountain
fuck you and your untouchable face.