for Nathan
I once opened my arms wide
exposing what was inside
a brilliant cascading scarlet thread
that was pulled out from my heart and head
I thought that it could be pulled forever
and never shrink in any weather
But once pulled long and tight,
my eyes paralyzed in fright
the feeling of my wings being released
and every dream and thought was hence deceased.
And then in knots all tangled up inside.
And the ground then opened up wide.
Vermilion, fading,
into the pool, wading,
My fingertips touch the tickled mercury
My lips were bitten, red with fury.
And there is an unattractive part of me
jutting out there for everyone to see
That everyone already saw
So I am reworking and stretching my jaw
With nagging insistence,
strengthening it's resistance
ready to just bite it off.
I am not a butterfly, I'm just a moth
I am stuck inside a square
and I do not need to be there.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
-
driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu...
-
nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
-
in August for John Keats I didn't die unrequited. I took a wife in August. My wife was wearing silky white shoulders holding out her bon...
-
Today I was interviewed for Poets United small stone: July 13th so many things for granted, taken: two kinds of silverware.
-
A woman's stance feet parted so that like a breezy window the mantle opened slightly lets in curves of salty air- but here there is no, ...
-
Reminder "You do not seem to understand," they'd say "That rivers are wide, and are not so easily crossed, we fear, they ...
-
At age 25 for Sir John Donne Down went San Felipe. Crimson and pale, rippling, clinging to it's mist. Oh, how that flagship hurled itsel...
-
and now that the anger is gone there may be a few more glimpses like looking out of the window through a thin veil of silk. a look in...
-
July 7th the face of a rose deflates our windowsill- not much of a garden. July 8th after the party- a painting is crooked I think someone d...
-
No one cares for me, because I once cared for you. futile attempts to invigorate the soil with hands un-gloved, dirty deeds to provide my li...
First off, you ARE a butterfly, not a moth.
ReplyDeleteSecondly... My favorite part:
"a brilliant cascading scarlet thread
that was pulled out from my heart and head"
This is fantastic imagery and I will carry this poem around with me in my mind.
* For eternity.
ReplyDelete