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I wrote this on a drive from Spokane to Seattle this last December. I like it, but don’t know where it’s going. Maybe I’ll add to it, maybe I won’t. It’s simple, and I don’t want to play with it too much.
The fog, in shades of amethyst and sapphire,
Be-gemmed the winter-naked skeletons
Known once as trees,
The nape of each drawn close around
With frosty shrubs in icy hues.
I often think
Far too little about what I am saying
Before I actually say it.
I often feel
Far too much about what I am living
While I actually do it.
I often hear
Far too much of what I am singing
After I actually perform it.
I often see
Far too little of what I am creating
Until I actually make it.
Would someone please tell me
What I am doing before it is too late?
Of course not. There would be
No adventure in that.
When night shines its darkness
and storms verge on the glistening horizon,
then I know you are there.
Plunging me into thought and waking
dreams of realization and foundation.
Sometimes heights scare me,
but not when you’re around.
Sing me to actual sleep and keep me
there, so I may never waken to day’s
Be my everything and circumstance.
Climb firmaments and buckled seas
till you can read my face once more.
Enlighten me, my heart, my ceremony.
Comfort a rotten jewel.
Nebulae of sins and creamy milk of sorrow
flood my lungs with air.
And I imagine your grace
and you are with me again.
Stay, for you know I am yours.
Below freezing and yet so warm inside
Being here with you keeps me in the right frame of mind
and nothing can pull me out.
Scary. Nothing can. Frightening.
Here you are with me, God with us.
Christ penning the conversation we are having and keeping me
in time together, tracking each other’s thoughts.
You never know how much you mean
to the me inside the me.
But there you go.
Happy new year, you.
Happy new year, me.
Happy yet another year, God.
Christ be with us.
If life could be summed up in a poem,
We would not have much for which to live.
That’s why I love life.
It hits you where it hurts
And leaves, laughing.
But I’m not – in fact I’m crying
Because I’m nowhere near where I wish
to be tonight.
Know that you are all here with me
In what I wish could be called
My memory, but what is really just my imagination.
You may be gone from my vicinity,
But you are far from being forgotten.
Firmly I lay
Against the heat of my body.
It’s cold outside and I
Lay here in my infirmity.
Cooled by breezes of fire
And emptied within the night’s ambience.
Did she really want to know me?
My life is a gander at significance.