︎ 27 / ecotone
There is a bending of pathways
in the taste of thought
A confluence of held breath
and words unsaid
The truths half-spoken
with the increase of entropy
Skin is the garden
of nerve and feeling
Bodies were maps
of territories in our heads
This is a place where all rivers meet
Hands, eyes and lips
Since then I made
(of skin, bone)
landscapes of your epoch;
Unrolled memories
in meshes of muscles, writhing
in thoughts I had never known