June 30, 2012

poem 205 of a poem a day for 2012

nostalgic for pickled unusual
I am caught in the
whispering vespers
I hold close to the vest
I got hurt in my soul
so I keep
an emptying of my heart
as a jarred firefly
trying to shine
through the dark
to light the end
of this June’s
Summer call for all

I am drawn
to the invocation
in the soft quiet
cracking of asphalt
under wired
cicada sound

another last Saturday
in America spilling out
a sleepy late breakfast
type of day all across this land

I am all
linger and lazy
the ivories of hazy
of my motivation today

jazz is playing
telling me to slice
and marinade
sharpen my own intentions
blade my skin to be
the outside of the window
go get the grill ready
and chill more wine
the strawberries are for
the Pinot Grigio

the melody seems to know
that I weave magic-eye denials
to curtain the pain of failing
to meet my own expectations
and the rhythm knows
what I listen to
in the turn frenzy
of the trees
and their full hair leaves
in the hot breeze
of an afternoon leaning  

July spies where
I smile wide
in the thicket
hunting the gloaming
in a low crept prayer
on its knees
saying, Edward please
remember I am
your child of Winter
and your desire
to feel life burned
inside out


1 comment:

  1. Great title and as always, a wonderful closure x