80 foot Paper Boat on the Clyde by George Wyllie 1989 |
the
poem is a paper boat at night
driven
between pulp
and
paper the poet
leans
into strength
and
praises how sharp
the
wind is
its
carve of time
and
all its unwind
why
humanity’s algorithms
seek
chaos more than love
we
humans murder
for
less than answers
we
forage the skies
and
spill the trees
our
knees
our
bent sorrows
we
please each other
for hollow regards
we are disharmonious
we
turn and weave
we
billow curtains of music
certain
of our desire
for
more in the dark
we
can see
we
can sense
the
deep smell
of
how free our eyes
are
in wanting light
we
are the sum
of
all our mirrored allowances
bowsprit
Goddess
I
want the drive pin
of
bread from sown seed
to
harvest and stored grain
to
bedded comfort and security
I
want a rhythm between
pain,
glory and abandon
I
want to hear the drums
that
bind me with silk
to
each bed post I writhe
I
want each payment
a
tongued stanza and poem
each
whisper a tithe
a
tell me again
a
turn your head
a
walking over
to
open the window
and
set sail into the stars
loosening
their moorings
the
harbor slip
of
each temple body I grace
from
life to life waits
for
lust to hull direction
in
magnetic wakes
in
phone booth grasps
in
pours of conversation
wearing
wreathes of herbs
in
each season passed
yes,
Goddess beyond
my
craned neck
I
too still laugh
when
the pen presses
down
against the paper
furious
and splashed
from
fog to compass assuredness
every
poet is like a captain
of
an endless night
dreaming,
like I do
of
all the ways the sea
can
wrap one tight
between
destiny and chance
between
the nouns, the verbs
and
every descriptive lance
between
the abacus of kisses
I
count along your spine
between
letting go of time
to
open arming an empty
finally making something mine
EJR
©
Wonderful work. I am amazed by your daily weaving of words. Your commitment to the art of poetry and love is an inspiration.
ReplyDeleteEddie you've outdone yourself. I love it!
ReplyDeleteFantastic, perfect for 12-21-12
ReplyDelete