October 16, 2012

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


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