this is what the words are
wings just waiting for me
outside the glass
knives to petal garland past
where butterflies
and beaks
clutch pearls
and lace the wind
stipple slow downs begin
enough to rest and turn
the eyes to iron
in a desert’s heat
the beat, cold forged to
the spill memory
of nights when
I still myself
enough
to remember
to ask for
directions
single file caravans
stealth velvet
pound hammered
guarded silk and spices
and the value
of gold since that day
when the mines started
plentishing kingdom wealth
to fight for walls
and we have
on many many levels
ever since
I grew
in each quiet
molten pour of to be
with the devil that lived
inside of me all along
as even the cover breath
of pollen just outside
the glass too
are words
of this song
that knew
the root-languages
were born to the sands
so long ago
I am mud and straw
waiting to build fortifications
wading against the slow
evaporative crawling soul of
the animal inside me
I have been in
a continuous
feed cycle since
this fire began
to harness metal
to salvage
what I might
take with me
on the journey
bridled and bitten
bleeding out
my divinity
for intelligence
in game show
thrilling fashion
the passion for more things
is firmly part of the garden here
I can’t get out of here fast enough
the words will know
where to go as this is
why they are
just outside the window
just on the edge of swim
and let go into the undertow
this will bottle me a map
with old letters
with old words
with old music
and one drop
of immortality
scented to the next
just follow
between wind
and wave
and the brave
blind Suns that
tomorrow
handfuls
its pocket with
like I might
pick up stones
to remember
true cardinal
ways home
in combed clouds
of graveyards and
whistle keys
and faith
for every tongue
for every groove
for every tide
for every poem
I see
taste
touch
hear
and smell
my way
to climb
ashore
and home
once more
inside you
EJR ©
poem 126 of a poem a day for 2012 (NaPoWriMo14)
http://theblindlantern.blogspot.com/2012/04/poem-126-of-poem-day-for-2012.html
