so, you’re there
, i’m here
& there’s too much
between us to
leave it at that–
won’t you come & hold
this, a heart, beaten
to be tender/still,
as nothing lasts as long
as laughter between the
veins, & nothing
feels as does the unbothered
unminded
breath/a
breeze,
made &
loved, to
be
washing the face and
taken into account
is what diana’s said:
clean, rinse, moisturize.
on-top of that rests
the idea of earth,
barren/dry/sunken
and unavailable to life;
moisten the land, though,
and you have soil/
life/roots to grow
more.
how destitute, fallen, timbered,
shook the trees by wind in water’s company,
but how rich the health/a wealth of
the most natural green
when licked, wet, regrown & free
Went to the Park
on Monday afternoon
, saw the worms dripping
with the pools in spread
o’er the gravel, a
sort of natural barrier
not much of a savior
for the stragglers
, stuck like dried-up veins
in stretch of black-leaked-grey.
there is a light around every shadow
even if you do not see one,
there is one somewhere beyond your view
in plain sight
though maybe not by you
all of poetry can be written on a single line.
yet feet,
still to be forgotten,
land as though soldiers,
having marched
for daily ends, tired
but willing, sacrificial
for the means of heads
not needing to be in worry of
their placement, actions,
retirements.
how two beakers, distinct,
one
fluid-brought for sound, as in
flowing whistle, while
other
stutter-steps in voice, vocals
as fidgeting as the quick-swift heart–
how they, in unison,
one
before other,
practice/perfect/teach
to be as lovers
in the song,
they, these,
one and other
in a littoral sense,
her bottom-thighs,
riding the warmth
of dress, cotton,
press to cup snug
the linear edge
dropped o’er by
legs
literally shaking, she
swift-caught her heel
to be in place upon
the floor, beneath
bench as though
she knew not
where to sit,
yet sat
f’r sure.