Monday, April 4, 2011

Wrote Down the Words in the Wrong Order

Tried to spell them out plain
Dragged with full leave bags and early wet snow
Over slate sidewalks that i used to
kiss in the early summer, with my cheek,

And they'd warm my face with absorbed sunlight
And they'd dance in the mist of sprinklers
Like rainbow ghosts, hovering
with eternal patience

Until wet trials under eaves tropical
Wrenched moisture from the sky
Until it filled up our measuring cups
five times over, and we smoked in the vapor

Rising up into our moon eyes, tinged
with bitter flavor, sweet where it should be rough,
Blue stone, they called it, and reveled in it,
while I picked up the leaves, the stutters, and tied together
the frey, only to run missing, missing into the carnival
of the day.

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