we never knew not knowing
was freeing the mind to grow
more than factual misrepresentation
emotional turnstile styling
heart hardening to melting ratios
our elasticities of reason
i.e. breaking points
and it is at these places
we pinch a soul
and find the hole
where rain
first got in
on the witness stand
i stood my ground
dialogue of reason
i can only say
listen yourself to your self
if you honestly thought i was going to react to
your loaded questioning... would you please roll the video
and tell me, counselor... what language of insurrection
can you see being used and by whom
and then counselor tell me... why ask the way
you do to me if not to frame said queries
as a culture inappropriately
attained by me
i only sold souls, see
and only then
the broken ones
i tried to curry them
to find where they can begin again
to count rain as their friend
and not something
to wash away a self in sin
most poems are interrogations
writer and consciousness
the dream letting
a frenzy Spring mornings bring
dove coos and tit flits
we have got to get on with it
i can feel your mother tapping her foot
or rapping the wooden spoon
against the big pot on the stove top
she would sing or hum
rhythm come get me
she would say aloud
if she knew any of us were listening
and most times we did
saying every time you sang
you would bring the reign
and whether that was Hope
instilled or a day to evening filled
with what it is we do
yoked in this fiery embrace
where language, love
and lucidity all pay tribute
to how good this smell of possible
this future tasting You
EJR ©
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