March 22, 2012

poem 90 of a poem a day for 2012





the read measures of time


like tides and basketing reeds
with eggs that cling between
whirlpools and rocks
hope never leaves 
the quiet or the streets 
in the supple reaches
that lull our watched turns
a crow's nest burns with

in the wheelhouses
we trace with bled fingers
along the way 
along the path 
the insides of the dreams
we all have

in each odyssey
that may be strange  
but oddly familiar
we love all to sigh
after finding
passage between
the hard places
and arms up doubt
that lace what
reaches for us to let go

so we lean back and oar
to see what the palms see
smooth stoning the dark
and finding our eyes
only protect the
reflections of light
near the narrow straits
of our swiftest shadows

EJR (c)

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