The low tide line

I walked on down to the new low tide line

to read the txt u sent me cross the dateline

 you said     ” soul mate

                       soul mate”

 I’m coming back into your time

but to you  I ain’t coming back

 hey well that hurts okay cause trashcan poets

 prepare for the thwack

cause yet again 

 there’s always a desert covered in snow

  where sadness melts into music

 that young tattooist sow.

 there’s a tangled wilderness hibernating

 black limbs waiting to germinate

 through  my stagnating  

burnt

sacrificed

contaminated

living weeping flesh

Lifting into your clouds my worn bones  

where my bean stalk connections

to your heartland mesh

 Then they are constantly destroyed by cyclones

 now I wait as i fall the spiders to rebuild

their light silken dream catchers to save

my scattered raining skeleton that’s been spilled

 Into states off  disarrangement from the grave

where suspended i await resurrection

cause there’s always a chance

 as long as there’s hopes benediction

even after many a year

“isn’t there ?”

©bg 2013

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