Naked Legs

how they swing how they

move smoothly
.......................like skin
in water
little drops
.................accumulating
desirable
...............but
undaringly familiar

to the silkworm

Just re-arranging our poetry from our creative writing class for our final project, which is going to be in the form of some-sorta-book. A little sneak-peak from one of my poems.





to the silkworm

imprisoned within

silken walls

soft and sticky

shed from your lips

now motionless

easily mistaken

for cotton to plug your ears with

or for pills that make you sleep

you are not

but

you are

destined

to be free

only

when you are broken and dead

and your only creation

to be sold

for much more value

than has ever been given

to you

Who is it?

Who is it that makes the apples ripen and red leaves fall?

That woman who gently raises her skirt as the river washes her feet,

whose skin is like the smell of cherry blossoms,

whose laugh is like thick raindrops

and whose love is like the passing of summer.