the streams
I've followed
careened
with choice gravity
each a sheen
a bird's feathers
coriander flowers
Tennessee's blue children
joyful, ever ascendant near
precipice care watchers
the walls I create
merely keep me in
line in league inceptualized
the gardens dug
allow me flight
in the roots of things
I wish bloomed and fruited
rituals on Sundays here
state sated taters
have to have cheese
and bread crumbs
drummed over them
this poem will now
nose dive hem lines e.g.
this afternoon
feels like snow
Wind Moon
Beltane wants us to howl
to nostril flare
dare our necks
craned soul
free will
and fate
a few dances
before Autumn
comes again
and all I you we
want to do
is lose ourselves
in love's
what the hell
again, as any other
form of surrender
will not do
poem never knows
or rather I never know when
the words come
for instance today
it was me imagining you
saying it is cold again
and grab another blanket
we f****** like crazy persons
missing travel timeless deciders
eye riders, wader rivulets, wax and sliders,
a cold Sunday afternoon waiting, waiting
on this
damn
poem
EJR ©
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