airtipped
eaglewing.
overhead
flows.
airtipped
eaglewing.
overhead
flows.
the first
time I left the Earth
i feared my life
in the gaping open
the second time
I left the Earth
I felt the separation of
isolation. I split several atoms
the third time
I left the Earth
I did not miss you
and did not want to return
the fourth time I
left the Earth
I tried
to take you with me
but
you refused to come
the fifth time
I left the Earth
I begged forgiveness
from the trees
and they cried
the 6th time I left
the Earth I did
not sing
and no one heard
the 7th time I left
the Earth
I took a handful
of soil
and promised to return.
when i fell
in love with you for
the 7th time
i fell in love
with myself for
the 1st time
i found my
muse in a multistory
carpark somewhere between
a dark wrx and a red
pipeline.
what is this
love
that coats all
my surfaces like
the smell of aging summer
in an evening
frisked by bees promenading
in the heatfolded cat
mint and decided by
a new moon to be a
seedbearer for the
thickening night sky there
is no romance
in this love but a
generosity of lust that
the force of life
drives through our
parameters resting between
heartbeats to allow us
to catch our
breath but slamming in
again before the Ego has
time (only the Ego has time) to think
of a new excuse
to not be the tawnycrust
grasses or sharpetched
hills or the neverending
skies or, least of all,
the rain forming its
contour map of
abstractions.
i am too full of
love to be
half lived
too full of pulse &
beat to be
a vein contraction or
smoothed pebble in your
pocket too full
of noise & colour
to be a 2D
render graffitied on
your barricade
wall too full of words
to be
a poem on a page
folded on your
bedside table.
will you hang
your squarefaced
sadness – the sadness of abandonment –
on the peg as you walk
in the door each evening
or will you give it away to
the neighbour’s dog that
watches you walk by
with sharpfaced forgiveness on
its face?