poem 464 of a poem a day for 2012

nursing gravity songs

like brown grass

being the lasting

image of Winter

I can’t say

when the mania starts

to eat away

at the hidden impacts

and craters

of my depression

I can only say

without hesitation

that it feels different

than falling or fining

a crannied dale

to crawl into

under cover

suspending animation

I remember to have

faith in something

beside, my earnest lust

something, I can thrust

between dreaming

of white veils

and wading through

every dark womb

for the halos

of Spring

EJR ©