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
EJR
©
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