WOrdTHINGS
in APRIL or MAY
The battleship in the living room,
The behemoth bounding up the stairs,
The rocket
fire-blasting here
there
everywhere.
The boy-quake man-tremor, rumbling the furniture
rattling the windows,
shaking the salt in the salt-shaker
flaring the lightbulbs to
new-found intensities.
Story-maker, Music-catcher, Sword-warrior,
Video-visionary, Opera-phantom, Comedy-king.
No wonder you fire-light the skies,
When you are destined to
Change your world.
----------------------
Sleep now, this Saturday morning,
Sprawled out, and making
A deep, deep impression in
your bed.
All the flowers are blooming into the room, into the hazy mountains, into the trees
and the forests and the lilacs that sway in the breezes always laughing in
Springtime
and This is the fragrance of these rain-splattered, pansy-dancing, mist-sparkled,
music-bubbled color-fields, and this is the sound on the driveway, the sound of the
Glimmering white car
yes, tires rolling up to the bushes who bow in and sweep skyward with or without
A breeze:
You enter the hallway, and a whirlwind of life-gardens grow, unshuttering shutters,
unwrinkling wrinkling's shuffling slump, and soaring us full-blown forward, out of
Sleepfall
and into the Morning.
Words slide in, and attempt to speak, then quickly slide out,
having found themselves stark and thin-lined in the spotlight.
This is because: you come with unsilenced, and resilenced song.
Notes slide in, and attempt to sing, then quickly slide out,
having found themselves unable to complete the orchestration.
This is because: in playing you are not playing, or not only playing,
or More: you are playing with More:
You are sliding away so that a greater song plays you. Then we transform
from listeners to instruments, from dirt-ground to sky-fiber, or higher:
From stitchings of bone and flesh to ribbons in spiritual wonder-gust,
Enswirled in something unexplainable by word or note or meaning: like
Music in prayers, prayers in music-----until a sudden, funny, sneezing
POP!
And there you are on Skype again, clever and quiet and too far away.
Now
In the clickery moments,
Time eeks forward, slow motion,
Hollow minutes pass, in a mist, trains going nowhere.
The house is clean, plants watered, meals frozen,
dishes skimmed, lathered, rinsed, returned
and perfectly in place.
And this, though tidy, is worse.
Because I may have wiped away your fingerprint.
And you are not here to replace it,
with a touch on a cup, a
rhinestone, or my chest, where
a heart floats in silence,
Wading through slow motion clickery moments,
and breathing the very air of
the letter name
j.
