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| photo by portraithaus © http://portraithaus.de/ |
the desert kingdoms
would still be
southern hinterlands
whereas the Alps
had kept the wolves
mostly at bay
and there were the sometimes
when Her young mothers got lost
on the way
to pack life adulthood
so if they had wandered
down into the fields
and groves
they could then
find suckle
guidance to feed
upon orphans
left as tribute
at the grotto
for humans
still believed
in sacrifice
back then ...
provisional chancellor I will not sign your oath of condemnation
condom nation slip rubber rain coat duck shoes were chic
once or twice in the eighties we found campy
was cool enough to hide
behind and vacate the soul for shallow
but indivisible means
of and to an end means
fathoming farthing fathering less
the carriage cost of contractual
obligation relegation supremacy
eugenics on the news stand
the band strikes a match
and the whole shooting works
is junky body parts all blown to bits
with plop flesh rain where gut drops sit
damn it eye fell
asleep wheel clay-ing wings again
pretending glaze kiln wish factories
were real places, they aren't ...
but for the pretty designs
our own wet slip silt pottery makes
when smashing the ground ...
scatter wink led bells
shards and long bows
a pitcher with ornate
forest motif
we once filled
with water
for the plants
we kept shelved
in the foyer ...
I'll spend
the entire
ends of time
in poem ...
I'll be looking
over edges precipices
falling onto points
hooking whoop-sy daisy(s)
hope you got the claims in correctly baby(s)
in my best annotated appetizer self hypnotism ...
the risers
behind the pulpit
are where the chorus
stands and sings ...
and sing they do
all the ways to Heavens
and back to heard
and herded, listening
listing slow tide
moonlight again ...
it was Sunday morning
and I could smell dinner afterwards in words, worlds
of smells and slow rebounds back to our little Hells
we rang bells tells we were tolls, we paid each going tithe weight
our moral letting off(s), we let the liquor and gravy hit it
afternoon tuned to evening when service was over
in our minds ...
pre-seeing the ways
prey prays payment
to glass laying still
for something
patterned in almost ...
the impact point
is the shattered
and mattered
what of us
when given back
wind and host
use most of ...
pieces
smashed
broken
trashed
downed
amassed
aggregates
spit with
amoeba bites
as it is its
and ours
in littlest bits
what are
we looking at ...
the sand fine hewed air
is my ripened bleeding
my humanity fallen down
into all the eventually(s) ...
the seas are
ever hungry
to tame and eat
every mountain
with their rivers
their tongues reach
sky and eons
ancient poems
long tines, currents
haint driven winds
climbs and repose ...
I suppose
we remember
each time
our bones
jump in
I know
our
souls do ...
EJR ©
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