the shapes we are when where this poem ends .......................................... NaPoWriMo2017 #13

inside of what we call relevant 
is the most vulnerable part 
of our soul, a place where 
you can hear your bones 
cry of cages ...

we greet the eaten parts of our souls, an ancient geometry 
in quantum intelligence gathering tribal who are you-isms 
we stand to breathe, we swim to knead, we sell skeleton stories 
fourth wall break-walking upright into sorrowed silver chinned chimpanzees ...

tomorrow comes wearing the same ugly mask 
and you task yourself with indulgence and retreat 
going without and drawing down the beat 
of ideas you have of culture 
and marinades of personalities 
every flavor we savor 
when most alone 

the monsters 
on leashes 
always come later 
ready when you are 
Antigone and Diogenes 
begging pleas and knees 
hidden dungeons, we create 
when denying ourselves 
Love for example, is what 
and how our heart is seated 
as the matter 
we seek most, nears ...

I suppose the joy 
at the end 
of a day 
is always angels 
especially working 
circles, squares 
and orienting 
belief held 
almost knowingly 
while watching 
the glow of fireflies 
crawl leaps 
of grass before 
they get wings 
hourglass tumbling mid-April 
where and when this poem ends ...

EJR ©