shape-shifting,
the passing lanes of kilns
being
someone’s baby in the rain
turns
the asphalt to flags
like
my legs after sex
buckling with needs
bleeding
water near
the
slow oxidation of rust
past
the scream of oxygen
and
heaved rib cages
pain
is what I let go of first
left
signal and all burst
as
if a long forgotten foul ripe cause
that
sounded good
at
the time when I first mouthed it
in
slow syllabic crawls
now
it is just pavement
rendered
with mile markers
that
look like tombstones
and
broken tided glass
in
those windows with
those
old wooden frames
and
rope pulleys
and
peeling paint
stealing
away
to
find the smoothed edges
of
my jagged tide pulses
every
vein and artery
that
mimics
the
ways of water
and
gravity
and
the shapes
I
take inside me
spun
smudged
potter’s
smiling
strong
hands
gentle
glide
to
a hollow form
and
this is how
I
become filled again
in
the fields of
a
blooming petal
kept-mouth-shut
quiet
rain
someone
says
take
my hand
and
wet-clay
your
world again
the
constancy of
your
chaos pours
with
the rhythm
of
an old soul singing
children’s
songs that say
you
want every why answered
as
you breathe awe and wonder
in
the deep gaze of rats
being
led by pipers
to
the mountain halls of kings
scrying
lightning along the way
lightening
the load
of
shadows beneath
a
tremble cling of leaves
at
the beginning of Autumn’s
tropical
courtesans
those
rakish finger-caravans
that
bring back
the
sentinel arms
of
the bare silhouetted
trees
again
no
road
can
be a womb
that
holds
a
thirst like you
so
go ahead
the
songs sing
take that hand
and
be someone’s
baby
in the rain
EJR
©
nice..you take us from image to the next..i like the nod to the pied piper as well..the old soul singing children's song...wet-clay your world again...and then with the closure you take us to the start..
ReplyDeletewow...this is a wonderful journey...and where you end up is strong...love that no road can be a womb....your first bit comparing to your legs after sex as well....wow....very cool....
ReplyDeleteA kaleidoscope of image upon shattered image that drives a sense of disoriented alienation, yet also a deeper well of feeling, strong enough to buckle asphalt and legs. Gifted writing here.
ReplyDeletegreat lines.... being someone’s baby in the rain
ReplyDeleteturns the asphalt to flags
like my legs after sex
buckling with needs
bleeding water near
the slow oxidation of rust
past the scream of oxygen ..........great journey.