March 27, 2012

poem 99 of a poem a day for 2012




for ‎‎the Love of Fir Bolg  


when weather
vanguards its mysteries
reason always hijacks 
the Goddess 
in the tides 
to drink and ride 
in gravity's cull of skeletons
threaded with time

sharpens painted Dawns
to ground the bones
of driftnet hones 
and tear at the running 
mock of the eyeless 
flesh of electrical pulsed emotions

the masquerading 
as depth of feeling
is the animated serrations 
each of the nations
that we league with
edge-cuts our skin
to bleed both ways 
into us with
light and dark
and the spark 
of a ground lightning strike
and the blood flow of a heart
in pierced wail spilling spiked
and thickening to mud 
the wet clay handled swath 
of Antigone perched
and clawed
at a cliff 
hanging the belly
roots of motivation
bent with a fire's wrath

these stone altars 
these poems 
these followed forms
these black feathers
that shine a rise
without function 
are koans

the grasses waving 
are ghost cries of wind 
are crouching Promethean
are desire near the dunes
hiding as the shoreline might
just be a single finger finding what
is unwinding each carve
countenance of silence 
between what
 watches every shadow
this planet blooms
when we look away
from the Sun
in each other
and instead breaks bread
 in the bellows of clouds
in the towers
that look out 
for the loud

because
it's easy to miss
that here is where 
Love 
gets into
the poem
here is where
Love 
is the roam
here is where
Love
reigns
any storm 
that seeds 
solitude 
to gratitude
again
when
we open 
our mouths
and drink all 
of what 
Love
rains
in unfurls
all of our
wings 
untucking
the wait
to fly 
weightless
again


EJR ©

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