feeding the dark hems
sack-cloth rivers watch time
stacking each carved
clearly identifiable feature
the Sun can sell of you
to pair gravity with
rise the probabilities
by the day and
flood the outcomes
in the languages
of dreams at night
tell
destiny
to orbit
obituaries
and wait
long odds
fate
always
wants
for
a
ride
back
to what
you might
have thought
once was paradise
even to some, like me
no one ever needs to be
a Moses in the reeds
inside Easter baskets
or some other place
that nestles time
into bright colors
all our eggs
crawling for portal noses
somewhere in the grass
are waiting to be found
walking on eye-lashes
and wings born down
the rabbit hole again
where every question
is an entire Universe
inside every meaning
each facet
each piece
of what is
right now
to someone
is another poem
on the path somewhere
in the trickery
of a clock and
the emptying
contents of night
EJR ©
poem 113 of a poem a day for 2012 (NaPoWrimo 1)
