Ground
that I walk on
isn’t there.
I don’t feel it.
It might as well
be air.
Ground is so grounded.
It has nothing to do
with me.
Firm, yet kind and gentle,
it holds all of my ignorancy.
I don’t do it on purpose,
although, I admit, I got used to it.
Not to know the ground
is the only way I know.
But, something tells me,
(feet know it, and time will show)
my way is on this ground, too.
I will like a tree grow.
****************
FEET
Intro:
For fucking’s fun,
find a foreplay
of fantastic fit
for your feet.
Big Time, like a Big Toe
meeting a balerina’s ass:
“Good day to you, M’am,
hope you hold on tight.”
Feet, soles, heel, toes
souls of your body
stepping stones for your dance.
Feet need to be felt.
They want attention,
and they take on heavy loads
to accomplish that.
Being farthest from the head,
they feel most neglected.
And least connected.
Especially with the ground.
Post je objavljen 09.01.2005. u 00:58 sati.