Horse Hair Skier

Your nails still refuse to drag along my skin. Snow leopard. You... Your nails retracted, tongue curled, folded. Padding away into a mountains dark crevices. Where I, kokburu player, goat tosser extraordinaire, mad skier across Tuvan skies, lasso in hand and elk before me... am still not allowed to pursue. My rope whipping out, unanswered, quivering, inept.



What is the edge of love? One moment, solid ground. Then something... lost. Water rising through the earth this shifting landscape. That threshold of sleep, that hidden threshold. Is it water, contained by only dry continents... then, destroying their edges? Lapping. Eating Owning. The shore, a watery, drifting place... (a perfect toe dipped in. cool. … Continue reading “Stay”