Differences recede in tules--
Black branch? Leaping dog?
Fish swim past in opalescent fog.
Doors slam muffled, it begins.
The delta begs to be let in.
Ocean sends its sunken ships,
On mist, inland, silent.
Silence --so loud--breaks
On earthbound clouds.
I whistle above voids unseen
And my skeleton, dragging weeds,
Returns, climbs back into me.
Sometimes all things, even bones,
Need out to play alone.
Geo.~
ReplyDeleteThis is another of those pieces by you that have all these layers I love to linger over. I wonder: Why am I Geo.'s only follower here? I'm sure there are others--even though I know you enjoy creating your art for art's sake--who should be here, too. Bear your bushes while you're out there playing alone!
Thanks Willie. Yes, for art's sake but also for mine. You know I retired 4 mo.s ago and recently began to miss the guaranteed daily problem-solving. Without a poem to puzzle over, my hat falls down between my feet when I try to wear it.
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