ash
crawling
there is a method in
the
madness of our ripening
our pounce ready eddy
stilled upon a branch of chance
we are waiting on in the dark
with our bright vision nosing
cage
calling the finger food politics
and scepter kissing as only one
of
our national past times
the
rhymes of humanity are broken
spoken
in the pieces of time
we
have all fleshed for a tomorrow
and
that we sing to in the borrowed
choruses
of civilizations before us
I
too, hear the Mayans
and
the Anasazi curl howls
into
the ghost wind
circling
for eons
around
these tided continents
and
trees and their seeds
that
know better and let go in here
are limb
crawling ashore half in whim
half
thirsting for more window than door
and
you the poet
and
artist
and
entertainer
and
dabbler of magic cantos
are all mystics wading eternal baptisms
your
toes all know
to
push away the eyes
and
find the mouth
wondering
wandering
waiting
to know
every
sense that can grow
inside
your suckle stories
EJR
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