(no subject)
Words slip over me like the quiet lake-water of evenings.
Toes disrupt the soft siltiness of bottom, and it steeps the water in gold. A goldenness of slanted sun shafting through burnished particles, swimming suspended; of lethargic minnows that bump their open supple mouths against your toes as they sift through the kicked-up dust; of the deep smell of minnows and leaf-litter and sun-baked moss-earth and sand and pine branches floating soggy like tiny water-logged sculls that soak the water with resin.
Water, quiet schloop back and forth, warm around your ankles in the sweet chilly air breathing into night. Traces up and down your ankles, its little line climbing up and down your calves, in and out, back and forth, up and down like a deliberate, long-awaited sigh.
And the words are water, and they steep you in dreams.
*
mm, i lovelovelove libraries; I think I’ll curl up in here and hole up in a corner with beanbags and blankets and lots of tea and read until Eternity
Toes disrupt the soft siltiness of bottom, and it steeps the water in gold. A goldenness of slanted sun shafting through burnished particles, swimming suspended; of lethargic minnows that bump their open supple mouths against your toes as they sift through the kicked-up dust; of the deep smell of minnows and leaf-litter and sun-baked moss-earth and sand and pine branches floating soggy like tiny water-logged sculls that soak the water with resin.
Water, quiet schloop back and forth, warm around your ankles in the sweet chilly air breathing into night. Traces up and down your ankles, its little line climbing up and down your calves, in and out, back and forth, up and down like a deliberate, long-awaited sigh.
And the words are water, and they steep you in dreams.
*
mm, i lovelovelove libraries; I think I’ll curl up in here and hole up in a corner with beanbags and blankets and lots of tea and read until Eternity