Giants run

By Jessica Orr

The azure plains 
are called with
my gifts;
they ask 
if worthiness exists.

Standing in relationship
to paramount star-strucks;
a moment is fast in what a
cause is.

You bridal-in;
all those horrorshows;
like Alex says:
think not of heavens 
but the knifing down here;
contemptuous lads do 
dance upon the land,
they grieve buckets 
and are taught under 
a roof of pinpricks,
coursing out their fists.

Induction and I throw-up
as I don't know where I am:

Laced milk (to get through life);
Toast crisps (strangers scare but excite me);
Solution of sleep (please change me);
Washed souls (in the end God loves).

A pound of flesh and thee,
what's it worth as free 
is a feel,
a flake upon Giants 
and sleep solves 
magical captures,
locked up hopes 
and I can be beautiful too;
just feel it (I try),
footsteps fall and the night
was young;
off, and 
I go into the steady night.

You can be warm,
and I can be caught;
what is inside is everything
and please have it;
remember truth in love 
recalls a perfection,
lost,
they searched 
but I knew you.

find me.

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2015 Jessica Orr
Published on Sunday, April 26, 2015.     Filed under: "Personal" and "Poetry"
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