Tuesday, June 12, 2012

For a Poet in Sawhill

Some pieces are never finished
with Full-stops missing
Thoughts not tied down
like Roundabouts
circling Open ends;


If we live forever
how are we going to love each other?
She thinks.

Every time she poses this question,
she varies a response like peanut butter and honey-
or peanut butter and butter.


She can’t even decide what tastes better.

Her purpose is like travelling -
Experiencing a country new
is to travel back to that same road
resembling the first road she travelled down alone
when she ordered peanut butter and wine;


The belly of all the things floating down river
into the belly of grazing,
Nourishes what will be carried over from one state,
one country to the next- 
It is the palate of all the flavours of past-days-feast.
 
She has thirsty eyes and decides
jam and honey will do-
She cannot assume one feeling carries over into the next
But rather
it evolves, tires and fades;


Experience is a piece of bread
worn again and again
hiding the betterment we layer in the shadows as appetite
and verse-

They are the same,
as we go round and round
Singing with various absent-minded intentions

to distract us,
Over and over and over again;

And we listen for what we want to hear-
We smell the bread in the oven
and we watch it toast and burn
Taking what we need
Talking more often than singing back,
Letting on more than we know.

{a.currie}
Copyright 2010-2012. PomonaLIFE, All Rights Reserved.

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