mensis
October
nearing
Fontinalia
I
am blind hunting
my
place with the geese
in
the sky
they
are paneling migration
to
a Jesus in the trees
they
are slip-streaming
the
sharp clocks of wind
they
carve directions
in
the memory
of
the scent of things
the
tranquil formation
of
their hollow bones
knows their hearts
are
beating
without
cessation
they
are oiled
and
feathering-back
the
snow and rain
riding
storm to storm
to
the south again
one
step ahead of the ice
pulling
at the roots of blood
and
desire to be
where
the warm wears
everyone
sheltered
I
lose myself in their calls
their
swoops and dips
leaking
down tufts
when
they land to rest
at
the edge
of
the brown reed-ed pond
that's
as quiet in October
as
ruins might be at night
away
from the light
of civilization
when
they take leave again
I
want to leap with them
to
let go into the sky
to
find myself where
no
one is watching
or
expecting me to be
I
want to lose myself
in
this magnetic destiny
wing
over wing
I
want to sing
I
want to tear open
every
reason
why
I can
why
I long this way
why
I rake my soul
in
scattered seeds
why
have I broken open
and
began to crawl
into
wombs again
why
do I call out
silent
exhales
to
be feel at home
when
the fog comes in
why has it taken me
so
long to get here
why do I drink myself
to where time no longer
wants to know
who I am
EJR
©
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hello there ...