Tuesday, November 9, 2010

181 - 190

i didn't dive head

first into the wave only

to drown on the shore

i'm stepping on glass

that's been broken, given up

form and clear function

wings closed

you'd think that after

enough monsoons, butterflies

would learn to stay still

wings opened

and after enough

monsoons, the butterfly learned

to stay very still

what it takes to fly,

cocoon shed, patience we wed

watch painted wings dry

i saw a leaf fall

dry flame from the treetop

daytime meteor

a blanket pulled

stitches of rain thread through trees

a bolt of lightning

small citrus peeled

white lattice lace held

together, slices

branches bare, birds

smiling up at the rain

wet crows feet

glove and coat divorce

leaving thin wrists exposed, cold

soft blank of skin

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