I feel a sketch of sun
Upon my Caucasian skin as
I walk across Feng Shuied stream,
This chasm of youth,
With bare and crooked feet
I silted the stream,
Each step, breaking Zen
Like a foreign language
Translated and broken into
Fragments of sound until
I washed away in the sediment
Waking along the
Extended banks of peripeteia
Sutured to my new life.

1 comment:

Naquillity said...

Rose Dewy Knickers said...

This is fantastic Michelle. This is a koan in poem form.

I posted my Fiction Friday already. I'm not sure if I'll be able to do this prompt as well. Let me sleep on it.



Thursday, October 04, 2007

July 4, 2008 at 10:29 AM