Sunday, May 23, 2010

to be edited

awake at night with poem in head
at night I wake, words in head
With words in head I wake
Words in head wake me at night
but is it poetry?

I lay with sheet, dog, cats, body
seemingy quiet all
all but the words that woke,
writhing in my head
awaiting some response, some one
too late, gone now
but a lingering sense, a place, left roaming

I breathe the words
I breathe with them but I cannot say them
fleeting they are, like foxes hunted, dogs baying, hidden away
The words envlop me with sloped shoulders
With sloped shoulders we hear the words that wake us in the night,
tiring themselves, immune now to poem speak

I hear the herons, the owl
who hooing and raucous, one slender one not
crickets rub their legs, singing life away
the sky winds through trees tall in the night
intersecting moon clouds, silhouettes of the night
chirps coming down, rooster crows

(to be edited)

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houston, tx, United States

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