October 3, 2012

poem 362 of a poem a day for 2012




survivalist instinct  

I am an early mammal
I am what lives past midnight
I am water playing all the parts
I am tap root theater brain lock belief systems
I incur costs keeping reason at bay
I am the hard perch
I am the branch Autumn wants to die on
I am what blood gathers
I am those energy pooled hollows
and in streams beneath
the sound of dead velvet
I am leaves that have already fallen
and those that only sound
like they have but still cling
to the memory of the Sun
like rust left wanting an iron life too
I am crept quiet joy
I am October in the temperate forests of North America
I am the fluid shifts of seasons in the trees
I am the counter clockwise cyclonic flow of low pressure
I am weather making water without ego, without love
I am the ways we predicate our movements
I am each tightened grip loosening something
in exchange for another piece of you
I am notes written down
I am the witness who seeks a mark
to hunt mirrored shadows
I am why you are throwing roses on stage
I am the applause that always rains
a please in the maple leaves
I am giving the finger
to the base numeral guidance
that rolls divinity
into a three card monty game
I am your eyes
when they aren’t fast enough to keep up
I am why you should listen with your nose
I am the decay of a soul  and
I can happen to you too
I have no need to pay any more attention
or to the direction of which way
you bleed out on the crosswalk
when my car comes and careens
twisting my metal to your flesh and
with you out of your cage for a moment
you begin to swear in slower and slower heartbeats
you even think you hear me say
I may never be clever enough for god
but I am clever enough
to run over you

EJR ©

No comments:

Post a Comment