lost in my anthems are why my cries ................................................ are vigorous sandpaper and warm solace ......................................... aka there might be a snowstorm coming

snow cranes are graceful slung low swoops 
they delve slice through the air 
over bent low near frozen pines 

you hear nothing 
when winter storming 
this is the bunting quiet 
you watch it pile at first 
atop of everything ...

this is a where my symphony soul is born 
in places and moments like this
without first your birthing sound 
how found within your core  
can your womb perspective be ...?

till supple eyelashes batted and latches battened 
get some more wood to the mud room before it gets too deep 
alerts crawl across the bottom of the television and I laugh 
sheep-izens henny pennies with a few shaved dimes 
clamor to the grocery stores for provisions and 
wait for instructions on how to live how to die how to act 
how to buy how to sell out : 
themselves their neighbors their family 
give labels assign tacit blame techniques to find heaven was 
without instructions and waiting inside them the whole time ...

what we are ; 
sometimes when we forgive 
we bargain for privileges 
to the memories 
we choose to keep first 
when we are the victor ...


in this poem 
in this life 
in this perspective
I am the vanquished 
do I wish to proceed  
squish my need to bleed 
until right before death 
or near my last breath 
how can I trust if I must Love 
the how to let rust grow 
to slowly warming my hands 
when I barely have the patience 
to pee ...


I paint over recollecting 
by the fires of lifetimes  
passing me by 
with no records 
to be set in stone 
or some other monuments 
meant to last 
beyond the pale ghost lace 
of my disappearing exhales 
caught in the cold air 
under the yellow sodium sorrow 
of the anti crime street lights ...

psst the past says 
as it passes me 
it says, " remember 
what you can 
carry few things 
from here 
and always shovel 
when it snows ... "

 EJR ©