Saturday, May 23, 2015

We would see great fields of dandelion

                                                                                                       Milkweed and Wooden Leg, acrylic on canvas

Was this forest burden. To leave our body.
There is beauty being that were tender.

That were whispers intent. Then the living
twigs to hem arising shapes. We are dilute

veiled in sufficient fields pulsing. Moving
lights alongside formless hills. We were

created affluent. By that had hat and hand.
Could well have been her father’s trousers

were left balled behind us. We align limp
at each barren yield. Want exhaustion did.

Bloomed about the caul that were negated
by left felt the wrapped moon. Discarded

to our feel sought and then stumbled case.
About to go drunk on a cocoon of laughter

healing against us. We bend wept for joy.
There in our heart traced had grown to the

worm glow beyond is fresh. Borne wonder
worn apart in pursuit a tactile pleasure bin.

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