clear across pastoral realms...

photo by Edward Rinaldi ©

clear across pastoral realms...

mostly every poem is some form of why 
beneath meaning
membrane corpus dark 
unseen inside 
a treeline 
in my distance 
sensing tactile 
to instinct
how mad I am 
in my incarnate 
asymmetrical geometry 

lust for the quiet 
poem is a parking lot 
mostly at night

their is 
an ever present desire 
to please 
to be watchful and wise
coming to each
point laced eon
we near end 
and far end 
our ancient to
modern civilized 
human today...

mostly poem wants as I
roped tornado-ed life
strafes against smooth 
weave straw at first 
then the bargain 
gold and fabric rumpled 
across a bed 
at odd times 
in odd light 
not made often enough
for most to see...

we draw our orbits 
through cycles 
rains to seas 
seasons, reasons 
and patterns 
we pretend to be...

why this is important 
poems says matters not
our's, is in that finding 
humankind a path 
of genuine maybe 
as right as rain...

mostly 
I never really see
love sometimes
twist-tilt the grid
purposing its imbalance 
equatorial and sartorial 
in unfinished hems and seams...
dressing us what it feels we'll 
accept as how come 
we divine questions 
as to why we are
tethered with 
trying to perfect 
honest cell birth 
as an expression 
of why we might be here, 
on the Earth
in some constancy
of Icarus almost 
stopping melting
words swiftly insisting 
a fleeting permanent 
our wants to be(s) 
sounds skin makes 
bearing a soul 
sweetly chained 
to a cage of bones...

mostly 
I am 
horny 
life-grotto seeking past
my mountainous ignorance...

finding poem 
already knows 
each way 
I die slowly 
while playing 
Hansel and Gretel parts 
again and again
crow eating crumbs
poem numbs 
itself with 
in the conversations
I leave behind...

poem mostly 
feeds here 
learning 
as I am
following 
hungry too
in the shadow 
of the path 
the Sun
takes...


EJR ©