Baby Makes Three.

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you and me and baby makes three

Baby Makes Three.

running with your arms out
hands carding the wind for moments,
stretched minutes
that were pushed away like heated sheets
restless legs in bed
flung into the blue
socks, tossed into the green
tongues, tied up by the beauty and the foreverness of everything
this small world rotates in big strokes
up and down universes
while students enter universities, trying
to become as compelling as the planet
infinite as speech and prayer
and holy as black space

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In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.

winterbelle’s Poems (5)

Title Comments
Title Comments
all the good girls know. 1
Baby Makes Three. 0
The Long and Short Pain. 1
Untitled no.1 0
you'll never be mine, so I'll give myself to the sky. 2