March 26, 2012

poem 97 of a poem a day for 2012




waiting for my bones to dry

sitting here again 
at the empty corner of the sofa
dancing in the shifted sands of
stop and go coffin wheels
lights and lines and soft fabric feel
at the crawl of the shoreline
to each of our fingered ends

hurry and scurry
the poem bends here
says look at me dear
how clear the Sun spills light
in the morning after 
night has paid with dew 

misty unseen jungles of our lives
drooling the dueling dollars for ripe avocados
and a heart's bravado in the loosened moorings
from the church of stained glass emotions
and every face I make 
is just another
in the ant oceans 
of glossy 8x10's
handed out again
and again with hope
on a rope hung out to dry

milk and honey trimmed fingernails
the manicured personality of disorder
the entirety of my mind is bright wall painted squalor
bow and arrows crept in concrete steps
to the salvation by bus
pigeons flocking just like the rest of us
with the rose color in your glasses,Edward
and the gone fishing sign hung where
anyone can read it by the smell
of your disregard alone

failed writer written on my forehead
each crime I commit against my soul 
doesn't wait for the movie to end
and instead the bled bread of get ahead
is breaking my balls every time as
I knead them in a risen cup of courage

the world can't get faster, can it
as my unravel is the tide-gavel of the sea
coming to reclaim my limbs as fins again 
the same price for middle of the road for me
is the same price as going through the motions
for infinity to stay in the thick of things
drinking the bottled innocence of others
in thirsty gulps of take me away
even if for a second a thought could fly
the speed of light unchained
by the frailty of human desire
is just a rape of pleasure
in order to keep up with the joneses
and the wind mills grinding load stones
in the modest proposal factories
that spew the thick smoke
of everything else
that burns
the way I do
pockets full of posies
ringing around the rose see
the dead can dance too
wear a suit and tie
and wide smile
as I sometimes do
without thinking
or committing myself
to something other 
than broken bones
and waiting for the blue to dry

EJR (c)

3 comments:

  1. As I've said once before, you have a beautiful and special relationship with language. Reading you is always an anticipated experience Edward.

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    Replies
    1. I enjoy all the playfulness of words for sure,deconstructing rhyme for instance, is pure laughter in the rain and to have someone, whose work I admire, care enough to comment is definitely a blessing...

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  2. I love catching a spelling error hours after I post...at least the laughing at myself was worth it...

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