Read more:

Search This Blog

About Me

My photo
I paint, make collages and mixed media work. I write poetry. I reflect on the Tao.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Wings hidden

Needle memories in the reaper box:
the valley roses, a broken clock,
long organ chords (can’t you sing
“Old Rivers Run”?), dreaming
bleached fish bones, red stones,
sea pillars like broken teeth
and ribbons out of time.

Everywhere I go to pray
out of this world
monkeys mark where I went down
in the boiling sea of special sin
which everyone must faithfully deny.

Red wine dogs taxi-walk in the doorway huddle,
dustman dogs and shipwrecked umbrellas dance
to a forgotten tango of cyanide dreams,
Rose of Ravens whispers to me “you’ll never dance broken,
for I am the ripe dreaming picker of minds
and there are wings hidden beneath your cloak.”

No comments:

Post a Comment