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 

horned 

unlocked

begin

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

riding

the pierce

of an arrow

from blood

to an eternity

we can wade 

a tide

into 

each 

other

with

EJR (c)