lips moistened with fine rain kiss
nothing, but the fearless wild
spins and whirls two hundred birds
one rush of thought
in giant, wheeling freeflow;

i’m inside the storm, a swallow
of unfinished rhythm
spitting feathers at an empty page

re-vision 3 – thank you mojave!

i’m inside the storm
a swallow

spitting feathers at an empty page
ready to tear down the sky
chase clouds;

lips moistened with fine rain.
nothing, but the fearless wild
spins and whirls two hundred birds
one rush of thought
in giant, wheeling freeflow;

i want to kiss you. now.



image: francesca dimond