March 25, 2012

poem 96 of a poem a day for 2012

moving through the abstract forest of poppets and strings in the Spring

this morning has exploded 
into the active unknown gardens 
dreams find eyes to pin-
drive a stake into the heart 
of mattered flesh with

I see the windowed world 
through a blind thirst
filling bus and train stations 
spilling the smell of surprise 
nuns and guns on the run 
with high heels and the guys
that peel their molecules 
to their Goddess skin
trying to get in
where everything is
hidden by habits 
and disguise
in the rise
of each 

here the wise wait 
for the jangle stir 
of cups and coins
of swords and loins
finger-tilling the fires 
stirring them
for more life
we want
love to burn
inside someone's
kneaded crawl to us
which is why
we shout throughout
what numbs 
our disconnect 
the separation
of tissue and bone
we let go alone 
behind theatre screens
where masks always wear 
us thin in weens
enough to parse
our souls little by little
towards a still
suckled serene

money stamps our souls
over a soft-spread
wide-legged smile 
and a landscape that keeps
speeding by every bloom field 
of concrete and poured emotions

ghosts dance in hot tin 
to gold leaf again
howling at each other's 
bend of conciousness 
to achieve something 
in our spun wet clay 
of too fast to scream
is this still a dream 
or something 
that doesn't end 
until everything 
humanity begs for 
has been manufactored 
in the calendars of decay
with each day becoming
another page turning
towards what ashes 
are sown to root 
the glory with
as life is 
boiled down
to each of our
little stories
we tell
the pierce
of an arrow
from blood
to an eternity
we can wade 
a tide

EJR (c)

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