March 12, 2012

poem 75 of a poem a day for 2012

finding the words  

Venetian masks are my worn voices
and all the ley lines between
what I lean against 
under the Sun and Moon
this gives me choices 
when I swoon
or is it that every time
I fall in Love
I am reminded why
my humanity dines 
on tined emotion
at an arms length
kept from my hearts strength

there are many oceans
to keep horizons curved
the space of time for one 
and the seas,even the rivers
of calendars in wheels and pages
and my scratched ready skin
rutting to bloom from its cages
my wombs crack bleeding 
a cup's pour kneading every rise

the low orbits of Spring eyed
the roots beneath my belly crawls
where all I wanted to do was feel
your warm mud cover 
every part of me
while I was trying to find  
enough in the paint of words
that might not reveal
for everyone to see
how much I Love Thee

EJR (c)

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