August 13, 2012

poem 268 of a poem a day for 2012

between a satyr, tree and stone

she said I’ll lift your name
to the wind and I said
let me bite my way in
while the sap
I lean back against
smears into where
my skin has been cut
and scratched raw and ready
by the gnarl of its bark
that knows my name
that knows the snort
of the stag in the misted-
humid air of the old cemetery
that is just humanity’s
circular desire
that is just the rain
wading through
our ancient statuary
to feel each corpuscle
of arch howling madness
that fills me as I call out
to the velvet sky
and I palm time
to find every part of you
is waiting too
for me to ride


No comments:

Post a Comment