..and from behind a cloak of humming birds
my useless eyes can hear the tumbling slices of cool sky,
my underwater ears can feed on starfish clusters as they pass me by,
and on a drifting bed of ashes all bitterness of touch has burned.
the whirling world of images and sound has turned itself so...thin -
the outer layer of my hands, a new found land of sense-less-ness,
can taste the fractured sweetness of your skin...

new york city