The clamor of alarms, sun
staring between panes, floorboards—
Knees crack, then eyes.
Shoulders gather my legs gather my,
Being can be heavy
but today it’s weighted only
by beauty: coffee before showers
before walking under highways.
Trains under water, stairs to
creativity and creations.
Thankful for most things, all things:
sore limbs and cold whiskey,
soft thumbs and stupid smiles.
The smell of smoke soothes,
senses and sights and small
bites of beauty.
The jewels on my wrists are secret
remains and reminders of
love. She wears curtains to bed
and rests—all things useful once
twisted, new vision and soft breathing.
We need nothing so we have nearly
everything. And for what’s missing,
place palms in dirt and know
this ground holds all things dear.
Posted on November 23, 2011, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.
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