(A Love, Poem)
They tell me
No smoke, those
Who can only
Imagine
Fire
*
Burned by
Prayer, too near
To ice, that's
The reason
*
You say
"Why"
I imagine
Sky
*
The arc
Of
Star
Through
Air isn't
War
*
Beautiful
Dreamer. I've
Heard
That, I did
That
Before
I was
Born
*
Maps
Of
Fiction. Yawning
In the
Village
*
Pearls. Cells.
Freckles.
Diving.
Dividing.
Dying.
*
The substance
Of her loss.
The antidote
Of her longing.
We share
A disimilar
Dream, make
Noise with our
Eyes, turn our
Heads
Into downward
Myth, kiss and
Whisper
Each other
Alone
*
It's fine and relaxed, simply
Breeze...
*
All of our angers
Gamble for our judgements
*
Never deprived
A land
Of "being hand"
A new slavery
*
How many versions
Of event? The most
A name
Will settle for...
***
Tulsa seems to be an encroaching reality. If it goes through, maybe in 2-3 months, I'll be moving again. Third time in two years, but this time not just across town, or the next town over, or two hours up the hiway. Another state, another life.
Not much keeping me here, to be honest. I'm clutching at straws, trying to stay put, but nothing substantial...anything I can think of slips right through my fingers.
I'm excited at the prospect. Maybe this will be for a while. I'm tired of packing and unpacking. I require roots of some sort. It's about time.
-c.
They tell me
No smoke, those
Who can only
Imagine
Fire
*
Burned by
Prayer, too near
To ice, that's
The reason
*
You say
"Why"
I imagine
Sky
*
The arc
Of
Star
Through
Air isn't
War
*
Beautiful
Dreamer. I've
Heard
That, I did
That
Before
I was
Born
*
Maps
Of
Fiction. Yawning
In the
Village
*
Pearls. Cells.
Freckles.
Diving.
Dividing.
Dying.
*
The substance
Of her loss.
The antidote
Of her longing.
We share
A disimilar
Dream, make
Noise with our
Eyes, turn our
Heads
Into downward
Myth, kiss and
Whisper
Each other
Alone
*
It's fine and relaxed, simply
Breeze...
*
All of our angers
Gamble for our judgements
*
Never deprived
A land
Of "being hand"
A new slavery
*
How many versions
Of event? The most
A name
Will settle for...
***
Tulsa seems to be an encroaching reality. If it goes through, maybe in 2-3 months, I'll be moving again. Third time in two years, but this time not just across town, or the next town over, or two hours up the hiway. Another state, another life.
Not much keeping me here, to be honest. I'm clutching at straws, trying to stay put, but nothing substantial...anything I can think of slips right through my fingers.
I'm excited at the prospect. Maybe this will be for a while. I'm tired of packing and unpacking. I require roots of some sort. It's about time.
-c.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
Yes I am alive or at least I was the last time I checked.
Lovely poem as always dear.
I kinda know how ya feel although I don't have the means to relocate myself or I doubt I would be anywhere for too long. Ah well.
Hope you have a good day.
Thanks for everything you said about my last entry as well; I wanted to go into it all with you but I'm beat right now