gravity
Dancing without gravity,
swimshimmy birdflap backflip wild,
would be flying fine,
but gravid is the corpus.
So work the sex, skirting vulgarity.
Work the arms, denying the armature.
Work the legs, grinding into the rhythm
as a lover.
Flirt, flail, fight gravitas,
weight we can't escape,
but defy,
gyroscopic inside
our birdcage of bones.
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Too much science
Psyche
Mark,
No title
Like the new look? The old white type on black bac...
This one didn't photograph well. The camera kept c...
Disillusioned
On a Roll
I guess I do feel like blogging
My three rugrats
long time no blog
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About Me
Wraitchel
I have a BA in Art from a good private college. I am originally from the South. I have three children. I am married.
View my complete profile
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Psyche
The soul is nothing,
My desperate self cast against emptiness,
and comes with its own physic,
a doll I prop up in my chair.
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