Sometimes there is a resting mountain on the bed
and thoughts of some who had to climb way up instead
to see this face, the sky tower rockets burning
hands holding on to hands
mother earth is yearning
and standing against a flat rock
just then
just then
a pause in space
the solid place beneath the base
was letting go
and shifts the covered rock with cold flesh tingling
is moving ice and snow
from shoulder top
past back and front
of gravity, the pulling want
within a mix is mingling
A pillow for a head
there is a mountain on the bed
