smokingboot: (Default)
[personal profile] smokingboot
They bathed the wild wood off my skin,
And combed my hair saying
'She'll prophesy no more, she'll sit
In the lemon scented sun under a tree.
Wanting for nothing.'

Then I let the blackbirds come
To eat berries out of my mouth
If the moon was nearby I shrugged
Untangling my hair from its horns
Saying nothing because
What's left to say?

Babies. A war.
Being in love.
The cruel gods.
And you yourself will sing
to me of your death.

To the Calling Realm
Not to bring something back
For the people have all
They need and know it
The hare lies down beside me
A man of the sea bids me sail
I am not even dreaming as
The dawn touches my feet.

Profile

smokingboot: (Default)
smokingboot

June 2025

S M T W T F S
123 4567
8 91011121314
15161718192021
22232425262728
2930     

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jun. 11th, 2025 06:49 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios