Grounded to land vs. Riding the wave
Full of life
Silent things are not for conquering
The chapter on burning and touching
Premise: we are thriving off the lives that criss-cross around us, leaving paper trails.
The slopes that rise and fall With our breath between them Are a sihloutte of green hips On the horizon: Suspended across the skies In an effortless sprawl, They are wild thighs To the wondering mind As a pen is to paper The incarnation of daydreams.