poem 381 of a poem a day for 2012

orphans in Troy NY circa 1909

a cantos of mutability

we are street urchins

we stand at the gates

of the mandible grass

tall and weeping along

our path here

we gather with stone

and story ambling

for the quest

of any knight or hero

anyone that can zero in

for the glory

and the sin

of the kiss

of Akrasia

She is always

lurking nearby

fish to fin

to what flies

beaten wings

to a soar and glide

or perhaps it is

the sweet sirens hinted at

in flitters and flutters that

by the lantern moth light

we will have known

we hold our sight close

when lapsing into bone

when dreaming

while still on our feet

when leaning against

the darkened canvas

of the forest

that is calling

for us to jump in

alongside each stride

we take toward

a bend or clearing

might we be nearing

a bed for this flight

silver to cloud

to Moon unite

right where we lean in

a bit more

bitten into memory

of the Sun

from the other side

of the divide

we don’t hide

with the crows

in plain sight

as much as

ride the tide

of our exhales

from here through

each liquefied salt

of myth and want

that bleeds the paints

we brushstroke

our intentions with

so when we tell you

we are blessed

we cut ourselves

onto each square of time

we frame our nights with

for right then

in a brief moment

of frenzy

and clarity

we own the fire

and a desire

for a more

permanent home

EJR ©