[ToC]

 

OUR HAIR WILL NOT BE TELEVISED

George McKim

I.

spring
blossomed
in our green
flames of hair,
grew eyes

as we slept
in the attached
clouds

 

II.

fires
grew inside
the vastness
of our skin

our open hair
was a summer
of tangled stars

birds
built a nest
in our eyes
and windows

fell from our lips
like landscapes

 

III.

like ancestors
drumming, years
huddle together
in the bones of our hair

 

 

 


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