His those books and hit 'em hard.

Drop from a mile up to spin calmlyquickly down to earth

hit the asphalt and sink into pages.

Slathered in the sometimes-sense

sometimes-sensual

words of someone else.

0

Touch and go,

who knows what beast cavorts inside that paper cave?

Soul of meaning, heart of words,

lover's-locked inside a paper breast.

Beating slowly-measured cadence of language.

0

Hit hard to force surrendered meaning

bloody ink of thought and word combined

then saunter vaguely down again

mind like a glass

and fill up.