From the verses of Shakespeare to the violence of Football, a soft hand on the nape of my neck to a rim's hard rattle after a dunk, the mute of Miles to the rhymes of Rakim, Hershey's chocolate to a garlic peppered, cedar-planked salmon, Joel Dias-Porter's thoughts scatter like grains of black sand across a wind-blown beach.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
21 days til Spring
with your brass band of winds, swirling overture of air, clamor of grey clouds. Must you cacophonate my heart? I would settle for being a single petal on the gardenia in your hair.