we can break open
some still softness of our time here,
like fluff titty rice pillows.
speak in languages,
some are unknowable.
some are glances and fire eyes.
furry static between words,
standing still, moving sentiment in
the deeper rivers of our heart cartographed in action.
fingers yield to deltas
lazy syrup and spit
mix and dripping.
we love, we are prisoners of time
but she is smiling
the algorithm has been sometime set, so
sit with who we have, are, will
some pieces stay the same.
it so pleases to
buck some change and lay, lay, lay
petite poems 2.0 