May 1, 2015

#NaPoWriMo 2015 no.30

wear muse poem

me the me 
we're selfish 
they'll say

inside snow globe 
under belly 
outside shaved 
light butterfly 
we are
wings drying in Sun, 
pollen filling air in...

particulate slanted velvety hang leans 

life as poem 
distilling connected 
to disconnects...

we packed things 
in steamer trunks, knowing 
we might never see them again 
long slow sniffing clung smiles 
onto each item we carefully placed inside...

30 days has April 
a poem a day 
where I am here 
and we are too
this much I know 
or at least, hope 
to be true 

which brings me to Beltane 
and this late last 
of the month poem...

my jar of fireflies for ritual
I think I keep 
getting to you 
outside character 
talking to you through
sights, sighs and landscapes 
driven off kilter 
painted encapsulations...

and be they a-buzz 
a-whir a-fire aghast almost 
can't stop breathless 
close to either 
of our dark edges 
near where poems 
beg to live loudly scented
instead of just written


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