Tuesday, September 19, 2017

5 o'clock thicket


it
is lonely here
quiet
windows of sunlight feed me
waiting on this cold pink-marbled bench for a sign
and even though you can't see it--it is snowing
it always snows here
it can rain
     but that happens most often in the morning
snowing softly in this captured glen of birch & pine
a slow
dropping sparkle of designed brilliance
a meadowlark sings
maybe a meadowlark is always singing
my feet grow restless as they tap & play in the foliage
should I play a penny-whistle while I wait
or sketch the inside of your heart?
definitely should take up smoking,
or knitting,
or model airplane building
I could build a plane & fly away to the last place where I picked up your scent
rich cherry-earth,
honeyed & mine
hmm...
that is cutting too close.
too close to the burn, the pinch, the punch that is the want of you
it resides in a scarlet-arched line from the base of my throat, to my groin
and travels out in a spiraling crescent moon
to blossom-explode upon
this night marrying to star-shine & nightingales
that is cutting to close
just wait
here
in September's snow 

5 comments:

  1. Stunning poem. I love the section:

    'It resides in a scarlet-arched line from the base of my throat, to my groin and travels out in a spiraling crescent moon
    to blossom-explode upon
    this night marrying to star-shine & nightingales'

    Great post.

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  2. Jack ... thank you !! i have been emmersed in your work since discovering . am inspired there & at home. thank you again for pausing here awhile ,,,,

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  3. This is laladreamy... I enjoyed very much x

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  4. OOOh Ringo Firefly !!! Thank you !!

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