march to me is a poem
to the world at large
i love my vagrant humanity
this time of year
do you love yours, do you...
mine smells right now
a crocus raw
in questions like...
does daylight savings time
get your sleep all bunched up too?
too many
on
to
me and ewe
eew maybe you
insured too
sheep
to
lion lamb
actuary
spread sheet messy antics
i only write because most often
i don't understand what is going on right now
in my head i think maybe
final hindsight was made
to disguise the parachute
of a soul from its current bones
each time through
is rarely a clear path to
what is behind you
retrospection curve-edges
your looking glass
you slow rake fingers
a fine toothed recognition
of this event horizon due
payment for another
final passage, dinner
and theatrical serial show
words and music
set to dance with
what we've just passed
in and out of life
on our ways
to the county fair
beyond here...
and though simon and pie man
are simple folks with fares
they are
the smoke and mirrors
fun house gang
all in an uproar
as they watch you
pore over your life
in its entirety
in these precious few seconds
of clear strung infinity
shadow poppy riders
and such, surf entrails
dress in elaboration
as is customary
from perspectives
born to eat
our funny bone pains
in order to survive
there is strange fungi
that grow on a fallen birch out back
i remember you said
we should pick
and eat them
after they're carefully dried
with berries done the same
then whilst steeped
in our tea
we'll sip gently
and wait 'til when you'll say, hear me sing
between toeholds and wings
songs of six pence spots
keeping garden corner plots
an unkempt wild for all the wee
and all the unseens
between me
and you, wearing
what was always
the unobserved
EJR ©
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ReplyDeleteLove this!
ReplyDeleteproféticamente
Deletela diosa del viento sabe cosas preciosas
de las caras de piedra tallada
encima de las montañas
hueso liso de madera
a la deriva en los mares
pequeños cantantes
para el viento amante
con su permiso