Thursday, December 12, 2013

What Comes

Blooming books of love and madness
inside the quiet of a purchased afternoon-
interruption pending

like a volcanic explosion
like an unspoken implosion.

You do a bang-up job
brooding a sea
of all you can or cannot yield.

You know what you've taken.
You know how to waken

everything in me you know
and you know how
to call the sun.

You know what matches.
You know what latches

the double doors
of want and need
that still shut tight

against the rock of solid noise
against the lack of bearing poise

that comes from the offering
pried from my prayers

that comes from the taste
that comes from the waste

that comes from leaving
an old life behind

that comes from chasing a sound
that comes with breath not found

that comes like unrelenting ringing-
a demand to which there is no answer

that comes like they are on their way
that comes like they will make you pay

that comes like the nightfall
an acquiescence to the day

that comes and comes
like your sweet concern
that I'm not worthy of

that comes like ray of light
that comes without a fight.

You open all the drawn
words and windows
and reveal the bright.

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