I am always practicing
auto stanzas
piecing the energy together
lingering, perusing amusing myself
I am a clever monkey ...
routine less so
listen to music
get up, pee
make more coffee
listen to the crows
watch a dappled yellow grey sky
lighten and darken
as if a hand organ
in a clandestine calendar
embrace of spy craft
against the self ...
trumpet and wail
is what avails
any sensed doom
the wicked and the rested
all have to carry
their bones
in pails of blood
and it is best
dragged
in the folds
of a low tided
dawn bleeding
bi-valved and
breathing fast
flicking past
the writhe
and tithe service
of serpent change
and burner phones ...
most times
these moments
that we pause in
or are paused by
are moan koan
kettle toned
old whale bones
hollowed, holding
the wind just so
letting us
pray
prey
we are not
today ...
and sometimes
when the end
of anything nears
we are eyes
in the sky
watching too ...
it is
yesterday I replay
watching the light
burn into this cold
April 5 morning
yesterday
I walked the gloaming
me and my dog
the Elmwood cemetery
I eschewed whistling
for picture taking
and a few howls to squalls
of graupel that fell around us ...
it was right then
that I became my poem
again, this quiet
odd smile I've
held just so
for fifty plus years now
against brisk winds
pouring through
the broken into
all the whys
wise enough
to shut their mouths
keeping their noses
a wide ass open
walking back
each memory
I've stained
with you ...
EJR ©
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