Sunday, May 19, 2013

Something For a Reading Today

Like the Grass

Absently showering the spent casings,
understanding betrays will
as a party begets rhythm and some angst-
            And though we speak often of peace in this crackling, electric age,
            the recent past is a contour of intention and crude facial recognition.
Gratefully, having gasped for air at times,
a thirst for passion grows as the water birch will in spring

And I know when gone away,
recollection is ice in a chest,
tiny cookies in a plastic bag,
long grass in moiling clay.

A lilac perfume will complete the cycle
only if inhaled and remembered in a long, darkened moon;
           I can only hope that you might be there,
so that the gift might be complete and even in pulse)
A memory created like those blades of grass,
under a quickened ceiling of blue and grey-
the prospect an expanse, a vaporous silhouette and a heady amnesia.

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