there is this fugitive quality to my hours
tracked
hunted
pursued
stilled
thru webs of mortal fiber & prism fire
scent raw
wet upon the palate of creatures buzzed with steel'd will & death
fate sealed in a chinese-cherry-puzzle-box
thrown to fate on a bluejay"s wing
there …
nestled between the light & fragile feather bones
lies
tucked .... the scent of mown grass in June
the coolness of cotton sheets
the wonder of beauty
the scratchy pleasure of wool socks
the fine roughness of you
the walnut-salt-home smell of you
honey'd lemonade on my tongue
poems & prose
words looped & rhymed & measured by wit & thunderous swelling
fancy clothes
words ancient & music eternally pressed along the rings of saturn
childish de-light ever-present, ever-there
in the space between
every minute
every hour
and
the blessed secret softening of the sorrow of all things
leaning in ...
leaning in ...
to heart
to radiant space
discovery & secrets i carry nestled between
sunlight
and
these
fragile feather bones
