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November 09, 2015 | | Comments 1

Thank You Doves

November 9, 2015

Thank you doves,
For your landing and confiding,
For your quiet, feather-anchored bodies upon
the November lawn of my heart,

In the feeders above you are seeds of misgivings,
Seeds of improbable hope and clasped husks of
what is, was and wasn’t,
These be still and stay on the outside of you,
I’m making footprints across ancient granite
boulders, they’re deep-set and will be basins for rain,
I carry these seeds to a place that cannot speak,
that cannot be, but is full of conversation and
naked slow-dancing,

Come clouds, comingle me,
Churches aglow, four leaf clovers blow in
Midnight’s mindful meadows, good luck is
everywhere when you’re loving yourself deep down,
Full cup to the lips lacquered with tears, tearing
and relinquishing the romantic resurrections of
No Jesus, no Lazarus, just angels playing with
large, coin-boulders and entrancing cave openings,

Clock-faces dissolving, clock-hands clapping
themselves into dust and whirlpool séances of
calling me back to myself,
Dim light burning bright,
Dried leaf on my doorstep, sounding as I reach
out into the world of worlds,
Wet mouth full of song,
Eyelashes, bows of belonging framing the corneas
of God’s peepholes into me,

There’s a privacy that conjures action,
There’s a privacy that sees Shadow’s attractions,
There’s a privacy that begs for Time to stand still,
For the rush to keep on keeping on,
We kneel to the ground unwillingly because we’re
simply exhausted and kneecaps are for that,

We cannot contain the idea of leaving this world,
We cannot contain the idea of staying this world,
We can contain being neither,
We can love where our fingerprints go when we’re
not looking,

There’s a basket of laughing heads atop of mound
of strawberries two stories tall,
I’m not a reader,
So I’ll write the third one…


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Filed Under: Michael

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  1. Beautiful
    She’s very lucky

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