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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