April 25, 2012

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 
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


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