March 17, 2012

poem 84 of a poem a day for 2012







 what might the Moon seek in an afternoon  


tided glass that speaks
cheeks to bless and the rest 
of how animals sing
buried songs of belong
in a belief that bleeding
into each other
is never wrong

the crawls of this poem
here at the tickle ends 
of what wind does inside us 
when lingering
as tines might
mounding splendor  
reaping the sow of seeds  
when the quiet spill of us 
fills the air with
no end or
no beginning
except the open bottle
on the table

this is where 
the soft ripe bends
this is where 
wine is joy
sky to ground
and knows to drink
all we have found 
when Love means
to be a part
of another

we never said 
never more
though we 
wanted it all
through a door 
or window 
that fit us 
the soft twine 
of each sin
we've curled 
to what thins
these fences 
of let go
and what leans in
without looking

isn't that 
what Love is about
to leap in an abyss 
where limbs 
are wings 
are faith
isn't that 
what Love is about
trembled 
through thirst 
through blind doubt

wade tilling 
the divide of
our spirits 
and what hides 
in our humanity
if we wait to bloom 

the sensual heavens
are petal hands 
on the wheel
meant to drive 
every smile
out of frame
in an arch
  of an afternoon 
well spent
 riding desire  
 as time 
 we've tamed
  as breathless
  never wonders
where
we went

EJR (c)

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