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Poet under Construction

 

In a corner at the party

Roots a wallflower

Observes Black-Eyed Susans

Bachelor’s Buttons go to seed

 

The last sprout to get laid

Will feel too much

Absorb every drop of water

In future desert climates

 

Always thirsting

Fallow fields crave

The rich soil of touch

The neglected bloom of being

 

Learns the value of rain

Doubts a cloudless week

 

Sips sundown cocktails

Balances slim stemmed glass

Like carefully chosen words

To drain and rinse

On pen and paper

In the still of morning

Out there…

 

One sings a lullaby

One spits blood in an alley

One restrings a bow

One wakes from a dream

One goes back to sleep

 

Another slides fingers across a pelvis

Another tightropes a railroad trestle

Another kayaks to a moonlit abyss

Another steals an egg from a nest

 

Some will sing in harmony

Some will shout in discord

Some will read scripture

Some will build a gallows

 

More will march in place

More will stand in silence

More will light a candle

More will stoke a pyre

 

One will live alone

One will choose a mate

One will choose a cause

One will walk a path

A path that chose the one

Baraka

 

(flame and rose folded together)

 

beacon flow

living, dead streams

animal, stone, vine

slip through blood vessels

holy golden honey

unification of tree, spider, exit sign

endless undying connection

like molecules in oceans

swaying unison

within the deep space groan

cumulative one note

from every sound ever made

one symphony of All that was

All that is

All that ever will be

To be clear…

 

You will not be my monolith

A tower of truth and piety

Without foot holds to climb,

Not so tall that I need distance

To see all of you

 

Not one to cower

In the shadows of your tower

Maybe a mirror,

Sleek and clear

To reflect myself

In the rest of the world

 

But to reach your core

The flame inside the rosebud

A harbor of light and warmth

Like the scent you left in my bed

 

Gentle not to shatter my glass skin

Resilient to withstand my iceberg feet

To navigate wreckage of voyages past

Where my spirit life raft bobs

In your waves of renewal

Space Putter

 

Draw the curtains

The dog and pony show is over

Gold filigree of youth sold

Copper plumbing of health stolen

 

Lighten the load

Ready for casita blast off

Wall clock ticking countdown

A consolidation consolation

To timeless constellations

The yawning maw of forever

 

A desultory dance among stars

Blown like leaves across pavement

Like vehicles flooding highways

To endless horizons

 

No punch in, punch out

No calendar bondage

Of birthdays and appointments

The new amorphous voyage

Ties to nothing

 

Live the mantra

Hasta manana

Mucho de nada

No hay problema

 

Man, oh mana

Where have you gone?

Sleep like peanut shells and popcorn

Swept under the stands

When the tent comes down

Death Witch

 

She blew in like a dust devil

Tumult of emotion, tears lashing out

Lightning bolt youth

Short raven hair, crimsoned cheeks

Tenderness not yet numbed by time

 

Told me her woes on the tarmac

Break ups, lies by ones she trusted

Seat belts fastened, a long flight ahead

I was her dry weatherman

No longer in the field

 

We spoke of endings and beginnings

Tethered to earth, flights of fancy

She confided her witchery

Near death experience, saw the light

Thereafter an ambassador to hereafter

 

I sprinkled wisdom

Like one who salts beef

Enhancing the flavor of loss,

Ardent entities of love and life

Feed off the carcass of what has passed

 

She felt better, smiled

Put on a shawl, played a game on her phone

I went back to a book I read before

The story the same

But I enjoy nonetheless

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