22.xii.21
720
2.356
every day we are more beautiful
for Jane
Skelton and all the sexy-genarians
on the
solstice
further in the skin
more of a map
more in the day
less mirror
and in the weather of such lives
at rigging
even in chairs
we climb
to see the seas
knees wobbly, knocks here, there
on the window now, giant bug
as never seen before
I mean to say that it’s taken till now
no knowing next
some machines are to slow us down
we are hard to believe
world always arriving
breezes and breakfast
every day closer to beautiful death
we are thrown to the questions again
it’s everyone’s way to see
sunlight on my soup
breathe in!
such days as towards
all the young have never learned
the every day more damage
still
where the forest falls
someone’s heard
to say ‘stop’
here’s the thing will kill me
say ‘welcome, old friend’
every day briefer, now disembittered
as beautiful, as far
from beginning
where I’m hanging my hat so head
pin up my heart and they mock
too late!
of course I will prime it again
yes, here, there, grown over
most won’t see
or remember
bent?
no, let’s say fitted
shaped with
fresh air
crystal in the stream
we’re sweeping out the stables
we’re filing Miss Haversham’s webs
a lovely lump
a limp
there’s no eternity would do
once you’ve cooked up soul
it’s how animal we are
run all these risks to believe
it’s all there is to
as if mere presence were more
it doesn’t matter how far you go
you’ll never catch up with yourself
it’s giving
and all we have
not a single god to thank
it’s by powers of imagination
no other way to be here
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.