Sunday, October 30, 2016

Danny Gentile #65


They make you breathe coffee
To bring the world back and
There's nothing strange at that

And a spiced dish to bring you
(With chopsticks near at hand)
A taste to translate the bodily

From where you were unsteady
Across the rattle of the equator
To a centred space of the possible

Where the distance has folded
As a map touched face to face
Rudimentary on an earthly day

The distance folds over the body
And the next city resolves from
Figure on figure and light to light.

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