February 24, 2012

poem 56 of a poem a day for 2012

a quiet sip of coffee

damp grey swallows 
scatter trails the day
in stark reaches
of spiny trees 
howling the climb
with a raw
readiness of a land 
scored by a wet
warm Winter

mud flows 
spray litter shows 
in the consumptive
spillings that are 
usually buried 
beneath the snow  
the tidy way 
Winter wraps us
comfort in the cold

we're told 
it toughens 
a soul 
by conditioning 
the body
for the journey 
and not the destination 
we think time 
can get us to 

a quiet sip of coffee
dryer spinning 
crisp clink sounds
around the corner
the hum of 
the refrigerator
sings too as if they both
knew the sweep of
mechanical clocks
hypnotizes my humanity 

I've kept my head down
far too often to wear
the where of can't see 
my way through blind 
chattel embraces of
the faceless races
I've run for more 
empty spaces inside
the places I've gathered

I cover
with dust
my fires
I've put
on a
perhaps like
some of you
this too
is what I
often do  
to myself
to stay
and alive
with hope

EJR (c)

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