She Talks to me in whispers

She talks to me in whispers
She talks to me in sighs
She talks to me in lullabies

Her voice is like a cloud
Her voice is like a stream
Her voice is like a dream

She touches me in whispers
She touches me in sighs
She touches me in lullabies

Her skin is like a kimono
Her skin is like a vine
Her skin is like a Kline

Kline: http://www.artcyclopedia.com/artists/kline_franz.html

Landlocked

You see the plant with its landlocked roots,
gasping for air against the very boundaries of itself,
paralyzed by its own growth?

Tell me, how does it relate to the human condition?

Alive, thoroughly alive,
more life than earth to sustain it,
strangled by its own aspirations

perhaps it thinks itself a tree?

Freed from its tumor it can renew itself again
But I have not the heart to hack its roots,
separte the parts from the whole

Because I know not where it begins