poem 139 of a poem a day for 2012 (NaPoWriMo27)

handed the formula to brand my soul home

maybe forever

was just a step

the way I needed

every entrance sold to me

to know that going past destiny

would thin me to paper 

with a broken watch

for now 

I am keeping 

my trembling hands 

in my pockets

always reaching for

the hidden blades in the lint

to cut myself a little more 

to put blood in the poems

each time

I fumble

I come to know

that everything of value

is inside the stones of things

I've gathered gravity with

along my ways 

to where I felt at home

I've masked

my mapping of the

calculus of hope 

always pausing

with pretenses 

just skipping 

the stones or

placing them or

throwing them

into high grass

to watch and imagine

there was a pattern

the curved ceilings 

of each romance 

took to complete

the sky with

formed into shapes

a spun-clay soul 

takes notice to it's instincts 

when on its own

path to a somewhere

besides somewhere

without a purpose

glass shards

I keep after finding 

my shine has been reflected

crawl-fishing hard knocks

in dry beds

seasoning myself

with what my memory 

can become

waiting for the rain

I am always

nearing potency

in a bottle  

I am always spined 

to the rewind of

Love's almost ripe now

every time

I rise with 

wet-thirst

I cup my hands

with an empty bleed 

and my pockets 

are full of stones

knowing I am  

heavy wading 

the afterbirths 

anticipating drinking 

more of that

vintage feeling

that somebody

is selling me

forever again

EJR ©