Sunday, May 11, 2014

petricor



















sometimes it's easy to abandon all musings
on
cosmic folly & rolling hills
to take up a fist of soil & work the earth thru the passing of the hours
to battle amongst those who can look sky ward and see no stars
see no force there
but blue
to rumble along ignorant of ardor & fascination & truth
merely to delude oneself into thinking that this is how it should be;
hard work and sleep make up the days 
habit follows habit follows habit 
follows
into the yellow chalk-outlined box of tomorrow
until 
something slips,
something tilts ....
into a particle of possibility
perhaps it is a smell on the wind
a song on the radio while strolling thru the frozen foods looking for 
bright green peas and razberries
something awakens in the pit of your chest
the bone of your thighs


the spaces in your heart 
the burn stirs
and you hope and want and yearn and breathe
in
him .
.... and 

all events and passions and senses
collide to entice you to rattle the bars of your cage
to stomp and shout and
mark your scent upon the piece of 
sky & earth
that calls you
home 

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