Surfing

My sea is dream
A dream of words.
a pattern of clouds
or a clear of sky;
a veil of rain
or a smoky drift.
It is my joy
to toy and tease at words;
alliterate, assonate, rhyme and flow,
to follow a cadence and pray for a word
to meet me there on the high crest
before I tumble in a tangle of letters
all for the joy
of a moment on the brink.
As if I risk my life
against a sea of pages.

And all of this unnecessary
no need to stand stuttering
in the edge of winding flesh
to make another word
but that electric fizzle in the skin
that has no herald or certainty.
That I cannot conjure up at will,
these threading pulses
of the soul
and the blessed maddeness
in every ringing moment

Surfing

Chris1249

Joined May 2010

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