Tall, green fields…

December 26, 2008

Tall, green fields waving ‘Come closer’ and

‘Go away, over there, where we’re trying to pull you.’

Knocking rain,

King rain… Tall hanging wardrobe,

The capes,

The staffs,

The scepters,

The crowns, the spare crowns,

the frowns, the clowns, the sounds

of footsteps up and down, as the

rocking chair just won’t let some people go…

The trees

where he used to sit,

One hundred of himself

all at once,

Particularly during the days

of heavy bubble-jumping

through hoops…

Legs hanging over,

Swaying above an area that would serve

as his children’s encampment #1…

There’s a cat,

who is not his own,

It runs up the bark-way

each time he’s about to descend,

a reminder of how right certain seasons

are for first-time-relationships,

whereas wintertime,

more than often,

settles for either hoping through the

affirmations of its many innocent,

pure white dresses,

planning, through the affirmations of its

contributions to the rising underground

rivers and cave-clock stalactites,

or habits of solo-ness,

through the affirmations of its unflawed

character-witness-role of always standing

on itself, adding depth to depth,

new to just then and surprising fruits

who suspected something fishy about how

the sun’s lease agreement turned to ash just

as they signed it on the dotted line…

There’s a double-daisy-chain

hanging around her neck,

She’ll jump this Spring from that rock

who she was afraid of last Spring,

The Spring has grown into her and

she into Spring,

The rock is a mediator,

the tree growing out of it is its secretary,

and the painted initials all over it

are its soul-itineraries,

those forever recent wet star clusters,

disguised as human beings,

who promised nothing,

and left within its granite heart beat

everything, including the porcelain

caught from the naked kitchen sink,

who dove off just last night…