Sunday, July 31, 2016

requiem #845











if today my spark should cease
these motes of movement settle
then i would leave upon this blue
my fractal fists of being
small parcels of crimson-saffron
to nudge against your shinbones in summer's sky
echoing with the pulse of fireflies

if today my willing should dim
this gypsy contradance to gentle
find me tucked against the wild iris
at nine thousand three hundred and five feet
riding the sound of water over stones over mountain
as pine sharp sticks to tongue
arms wide open to sun

if today all blaze & briar rests
this blood smoothes to heart's rebel
yearning shadows the cottaged cage
of fragility's equation written
as comets flicker to remind
the tender weight of the honeysuckle
... will be all that you can find

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