Grandmother Time

Tue, 08/06/2013 - 13:33 -- BJKurai



Wisdom is rugged.

Time wound back to youth and time spent.

The salt of cuts and cracks of skin,

Dark with age and learned.

Pure against the background and growth.

See into the soul,

Cuz’ souls swing past in flocks.

Tragic behind the eyes and a tight jaw...

grand as an ancestor’s kiss...

tossed and baked in rich spirit...

poured like a thick liquor...

the casual pop of a hot grain of rice...

like a lovely quote, like a thought buried in the crown...

heard like the constant cluck of a bird...

The tongue twists tight in the burden of age...

Not of grace but of cliffs

of time kilt’ and times revived, and memories.

or loss and steel.

and a jovial bitterness of muck.

of demise and the blood of birth.

The culture speaks.

It screams under the feet, under the muck...

along the bone, sharp.

been there!



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