dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: tongue

Our tongues lie down

Like breeze-brushed

Hayfields in the summertime,

Dry but alive

And dancing

In their own weary way,

Each golden grain

Saying much with little

Snake-like flicks,

Sharply sentencing

The sky forever to

The cracked clay.

I have

a single coffee bean

for a brain today,

caffeine and steam

grind together





they soak my tongue,

causing me to lie

shaking in the

deep brown hammock

stretched between

exhaustion and energy.