I have licked the salt stone.
Run mad as a mushroom cap bobbing in the rapids of a dark stream.
Leapt up the oak ladder to circle the crescent moon.
The wind lies languid in the ivory caves of your morning mouth.
The dawn wraps your shadow turning slowly towards me.
Digital Scholarship > The Cave of Hypnos: Early Poems > The Salt Stone
Copyright © 2012 by Charles W. Bailey, Jr.
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