March 2, 2012

poem 62 of a poem a day for 2012

at the corner of woods and sublime

spirit spun eyes
vapor morphology
emotions bound
congeal lightning
quick locked in
kinks can reveal
sharp angle intention
here at the dripped
ghost edges of
my event horizons

do I need
to bleed
as much
into bleach
into dragged
fingered rust
into the mud
of what lingers
in my pauses
the looks back
to the bus stop
after I've gotten
on the ride
what've I forgotten
in the diesel lurch
what will I miss
that's already there
not here
everything that
fear keeps
in me
shows me
what I'll
miss first
if I don't
look like
I may fit in

it's not
that I
to be
I don't
I choose
to be driven
to worship
the Goddess
as a path
to claim
my own

and perhaps
I needed to eat
enough crow
to dig time
from my eyes
to see the way
inside all the love
I left on a shelf
still wrapped
packaged and
waiting to be
opened by
someone like you
and perhaps
I needed to be
on an old
tree branch
to see
my way
to you
was just
a leap
of faith

EJR (c)

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