August 25, 2012

poem 285 of a poem a day for 2012

the slow brick building of a late Summer still life

the honey drips
warmed on a plate
near the window
I cask every ripe
in my fields
of flowered memory

woven in wind
and splashed with
cut eye sunshine
pollen in the weeds
is the crows cawing
saying you have to
feed now
the throats
are all bare
and the blood
is rushing
to the skin
like diamonds
caught in
fallen star landscapes
gravity has created
every shape
in our desires

the occasional car door
closes in the warm air
licking the tipped yellow leaves
playing the velvet cymbals
clapping in their delight too
as soft cries for
means dreaming
another embrace of loam
thirsty again with
pockets turned out
to the fertility of rabbits
the easy fur
and fast muscles

turning the warren
into a world
of let go principles
slot machine dynamics
chancing the spun thoughts
of little black dresses
immersed in each
of their smells
wanting more
than just a handful of eyes
that we might throw
as bones to see the future
when caution in the mortar
says hold on tight
the night is still eating
its way into you


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