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| 'birdgirl' Michael Hutter © https://kunstkrake.wordpress.com/ |
what are the things we carry
(home, hone, poem)
who bears witness
how does the self shadow
light from which it is born
it was said
of the now
it began
in earnest
with magic beans
and cows and
that we shouldn't
leave our houses
yet here we are
splatter pattern spreading
unpaid vector agents
myths and metals in our blood
harmonies
harp angel routines
frequencies
fed tower fie fife fiver geez us
enslaved knees need
prayers at the well
momma we miss you, we miss you well
oh momma you knew this day would come
you would say
go for it go for it well
tell me
sorrow in the faces
three coins fountain rain
sects, scholarly explaining g_d again
yes momma, tell me pope on a rope
i'm a dope bible hack story
fed crack, instead o'breast milk
that silk pursed gold holds power for only so long
momma by the sea shore mountain bled-2-tine
says a grain at a time, insists life will not be without death
again even if, what you seek is shine pined on for an eternity
there is certainty and then there is certainty of foolish pursuit
the idea of grocery carting permanence while alive in boots
this folly, the holly bramble berry bled map slow erode
is one in which we die a thousand little ways before
actual death arrives
we went for a walk most mornings
Moon wobble artists
though we cannot dismiss
the misty ones being best
nest expressing our inner
moist, most selves
we said we were saint and sinner
equally interchangeable
with flippancy, rant, tender till
sword cup pawn limber
tidal spawn before dawn, we longed
what we could ne'er quantify
wee blue, we went thru scent mostly, through witch
Antigone counts fire gulls and crows in the pines beginning to stir
they're bare tucked
to a low lamp slunk away sea,
oh father oh Oedipus,
give us another reason to be
we, to a were aware wear
is there to breathe,
to find purpose
to keep on
keeping on
much like billow spread
clean sheets over waiting bed
new day, marches in
our pails, full of clams
thoughts of lunch
swim, our hands
on occasion
clasp
each other's
as well
palming this
momma, the
rain begins
EJR ©
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