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.

Copyright 2010-2012. PomonaLIFE, All Rights Reserved.

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