November 29, 2015

we played with our patina

we played with our patina

she called the West 
said it was best 
to cardinal-handle 
any vent politics...

our purest insistence(s) 
tongue honey the stung silence(s) 
we surrendered our eyes to all portal now(s)...

this, we beg 
is our ocular seance 
to the nose king, 
our scented lights, court 
ritual forested tells... 

we've remembered 
and begun the spun 
calling out 
of the rest 
of our names...

the shore assures 
us what the sea knows 
mountain and rain 
ash and countenances 
overnights, with the tide 
coming in, Winter stalking strangely 
where these old iron spines 
bleeding-ly dig in 
and everything bends 
swaying to the North 
this time of year...

EJR © 

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