August 4, 2012

poem 259 of a poem a day for 2012

A dollar across the board

kingdom come
and kingdom go
inside every what if
is another moment of life
ready to be stolen
words here
are just playthings
in a sandbox
that was only meant
to be a held memory
of how things pour
the more into our reach
as our attachment
for everything
that ever hurt
is held to where
the cold inside us
hopes, a soul melts
in the fleet silhouettes
that the spider web catches
through the window

perhaps all of them
are the ghosts of violets
in the Spring
are the owls
that ask me
the same questions
over and over, again
what is the currency
of your Love
what is it that
you don’t have
time for


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