Friday, September 19, 2014

SECRETS

A mute voice rises
by resolute crows
on an ash tree
a poet between branches
stuck in the brushwood
of a smothered sweater
carrying wild roses
between his fingers
along the bee lined edge
of the grove voiced jays
with dark possibilities
of silent twigs fallen
by acorns on earth
you locate your love letter
implanted a decade ago
in the pollen's low clearing
covered with marigold
in the green absinthe bottle
still shut in a wanderer's space
of time's even equilibrium
held in my sheltered fate
of an indifferent noonday
that the wide worms path
will turn in my absence
to impalpable roads
from my cold sandal feet
covering blankets of secrets.





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