sitting bare in the sun. . .

it’s better than sex,
spicier than smoking spliffs,
more wholesome and delicate than dancing,
it provides planetary energy,
a healthy stain on the goods,
a boost and a complementary roast

hand crafted yogi leans,
sun saluting with open breast and teeth,
a greet to the morning,
a day like a cobra
spitting gentle rays into pores
and sucking out the sickness stuck,
burning it, steaming it in silence
blooming all the ground brightly,
offering food to the fishes,
and evaporating our spit

the shining incident for life.

Written in Columbia, SC 2012

Categories: Nostalgic Poetry, Puzzling Poems | 1 Comment

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One thought on “Sun

  1. And you’ll never forget the smell of a day in the sun, a little dirty, a little salty, but oh so sweet.

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