Sunday, September 25, 2011

Tomato, poetry by Rojan Zét

Through watered eyes soaring, my
jacket billowed roaring to clouds
behind Pre-voh with glances quick
and wondering, perfumed sound thundering.
Airbrush tresses round me flowing,
wind has found me, weaves the going
and the coming swift below me.

Black tar-zipped lines evaporate;
pavement fur, oaks, undulate. Spokes
winding over pebble squeals and
shots from pipes decelerating,
staccato nails around a curving track
tangent to the Queen's circle attack
speed ascending, the road bending.

Clutchless fastshift, loud and snorting,
red and gleaming chrome sun sporting lake
and island gliding by, heart in my
outstretched hand, leather on the fly,
ready now, completely mine wanting to
go, take me higher, off the stand,
and ride this flow, anytime.

Rojan Zét

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