in the awakenings at death's door what do you think you'll perceive

looking West over the atrium

they stood guarding the sentinel betweens not sure with whatwe were seeing believing 
was life anotherverb anotherdayglow night dream seam stitching the riptides 
and ridesglides diodes glow-hides blight-fights lights and shadow attendants 
all the audience  and orchestra too music followers roteprone falling rabbit holes 
those who hear the bark crumble accordion eerie(s) of the dryads sirens throughout
the prattle forest winter sound ground level tells 
time has you seated in lulls yelps murmurs soft wandering wondering 
through these calendrical beat kept elliptical scribble clarity rituals 
you insist on keeping you wholly you
all thAT IS ALMOST PERFECT 
when alone after midnight 
and the poem comes calling 
what do you do here 'I think of Love' 
in a solitudinal manner and try to let it grow unnoticed 
inside  the forest 
of someone 
who might give a shit 
for a little bit or at least 
until they run out of patience
or I run out of poems 

EJR ©