on poetry

on poetry

I imagine you

pulling polished blades

that lift and drop and cut

moon-ivory water,

while fulcrumed in oarlocks

smooth and silent,

your breath

rhythms to oar splash

slipping soundless seas.

unknowns

break surface,

iridescent arcs

of soar and shimmer-

foreign in this air-

beautiful in this air,

shake night rain

on your hands

as you pull ever

outward,

everlasting wrapping you

around shoulders

back to front,

the way ahead

unseen

for jamie a.

Menu

User login

Member Pages »

See also

Monkeys: There are no monkeys here. If you're looking for monkeys, go away. Well, actually there are monkeys, but they're of the hairless variety that writes poetry and such. If that's not what you're looking for move along.