July 2, 2012

poem 210 of a poem a day for 2012

what I sing is

in the reed canary grass
the glass of my every past expression
are the caught glimpses
of a serenade of nature and evade
what shades the water’s edge
from reason and the bladed logic
splayed out as my soul’s skin drying
where the blooms get in
tiny rooting the fissure weans
of clay and rain and sin
cupping more of something
that goes about its business
of fascination and dissolve
one skin cell perched at a time
every tide finds every trickle is a gain
every ripple is calling pain to seed
between the notes and the rests
and all I want to do
is to play my best
to find a song
for every moment
life can kiss back
into rust with


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