do you remember one
morning when it rained,
chrysanthemums then lined the streets
and each petal whirred to the sound of your passing?
you were too, a flower
in my hand. deep underneath the ground
you murmur, letting the twilight darkle
into twinight. it was the dawn of your becoming.
the sky’s panging brought you here.
you suddenly filled all the mouths
that waited for you, with the marine of your name.
because we were joined by haunts that revisit us
in this river of life
and that is why the unperturbed stone,
the incongruent leap of water,
the bodies that sprucely lay adrift with the fluminous ways
of the world all know you and i
because we are but from one source
surrounding them in their laughter and silence
when we are apart as though
they cannot sing when we do not make music
they cannot wake when they darkly wait for us
in their homes, trembling with unlit lamps of dust and sleep
they cannot lift in the moonlight when we strip
them of their fear
as though they cannot love in the midst
of spring when we are but two separate leaves
falling endlessly – finding each other in the Earth.
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 3:44 AM UTC
do you remember one
morning when it rained,
chrysanthemums then lined the streets
and each petal whirred to the sound of your passing?
you were too, a flower
in my hand. deep underneath the ground
you murmur, letting the twilight darkle
into twinight. it was the dawn of your becoming.
the sky’s panging brought you here.
you suddenly filled all the mouths
that waited for you, with the marine of your name.
because we were joined by haunts that revisit us
in this river of life
and that is why the unperturbed stone,
the incongruent leap of water,
the bodies that sprucely lay adrift with the fluminous ways
of the world all know you and i
because we are but from one source
surrounding them in their laughter and silence
when we are apart as though
they cannot sing when we do not make music
they cannot wake when they darkly wait for us
in their homes, trembling with unlit lamps of dust and sleep
they cannot lift in the moonlight when we strip
them of their fear
as though they cannot love in the midst
of spring when we are but two separate leaves
falling endlessly – finding each other in the Earth.
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