November 14, 2015

tide incremental reapers...

tide incremental reapers

I was atop a granite face 
in earnest witless fear 
rage and storm 
purity ritual water 
driven by lightning 
thunder and bellows  

staccato x-ray indians 
head-dressed ghosts 
kept in rise 
kept in wanting 
kept squatting 
in my mind when 
I closed my eyes 
so I leaped 
twenty feet into wet leaves 
crevasse-d crawl doors and weave 
perception reception needing 
the kneading between things
the slink slip silk ebbs 
threaded wane don't forget 
Shiva and the trees know 
when time seeks bones 
both feet on the ground dancing
a late Autumn sky beckoning 
for your soul, flesh 
and corner stone 

can you give 
a little more 
for those places in you
scent chooses to see 
perhaps, in a poem birth 
in low wet sand 
before dawn with
the sea saying 
to the shore
I was rain once 
just as you might have been
born in the mountains too...


No comments:

Post a Comment