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Emily

PostPosted: 17 May 2010, 13:33
by milky moon
    the meadowlark and the chim-choo-ree and the sparrow
    set to the sky in a flying spree, for the sport over the pharaoh
    a little while later the Pharisees dragged comb through the meadow
    do you remember what they called up to you and me, in our window?

    there is a rusty light on the pines tonight
    sun pouring wine, lord, or marrow
    down into the bones of the birches
    and the spires of the churches
    jutting out from the shadows
    the yoke, and the axe, and the old smokestacks and the bale and the barrow
    and everything sloped like it was dragged from a rope
    in the mouth of the south below

    we've seen those mountains kneeling, felten and grey
    we thought our very hearts would up and melt away
    from that snow in the nighttime
    just going
    and going
    and the stirring of wind chimes
    in the morning
    in the morning
    helps me find my way back in
    from the place where I have been

    and, Emily - I saw you last night by the river
    I dreamed you were skipping little stones across the surface of the water
    frowning at the angle where they were lost, and slipped under forever,
    in a mud-cloud, mica-spangled, like the sky'd been breathing on a mirror

    anyhow - I sat by your side, by the water
    you taught me the names of the stars overhead that I wrote down in my ledger
    tho all I knew of the rote universe were those pleiades loosed in december
    I promised you I‘d set them to verse so I'd always remember

    that the meteorite is a source of the light
    and the meteor's just what we see
    and the meteoroid is a stone that's devoid of the fire that propelled it to thee

    and the meteorite's just what causes the light
    and the meteor's how it's perceived
    and the meteoroid's a bone thrown from the void that lies quiet in offering to thee

    you came and lay a cold compress upon the mess I'm in
    threw the window wide and cried; Amen! Amen! Amen!
    the whole world - stopped - to hear you hollering
    you looked down and saw now what was happening

    the lines are fadin' in my kingdom
    (tho I have never known the way to border 'em in)
    so the muddy mouths of baboons and sows and the grouse and the horse and the hen
    grope at the gate of the looming lake that was once a tidy pen
    and the mail is late and the great estates are not lit from within
    the talk in town's becoming downright sickening

    in due time we will see the far butte lit by a flare
    I've seen your bravery, and I will follow you there
    and row through the nighttime
    gone healthy
    gone healthy all of a sudden
    in search of the midwife
    who could help me
    who could help me
    help me find my way back in
    there are worries where I've been

    say, say, say in the lee of the bay; don't be bothered
    leave your troubles here where the tugboats shear the water from the water
    (flanked by furrows, curling back, like a match held up to a newspaper)
    Emily, they'll follow your lead by the letter
    and I make this claim, and I'm not ashamed to say I know you better
    what they've seen is just a beam of your sun that banishes winter

    let us go! though we know it's a hopeless endeavor
    the ties that bind, they are barbed and spined and hold us close forever
    though there is nothing would help me come to grips with a sky that is gaping and yawning
    there is a song I woke with on my lips as you sailed your great ship towards the morning

    come on home, the poppies are all grown knee-deep by now
    blossoms all have fallen, and the pollen ruins the plow
    peonies nod in the breeze and while they wetly bow, with
    hydrocephalitic listlessness ants mop up-a their brow

    and everything with wings is restless, aimless, drunk and dour
    the butterflies and birds collide at hot, ungodly hours
    and my clay-colored motherlessness rangily reclines
    - come on home, now! all my bones are dolorous with vines

    Pa pointed out to me, for the hundredth time tonight
    the way the ladle leads to a dirt-red bullet of light
    squint skyward and listen -
    loving him, we move within his borders:
    just asterisms in the stars' set order

    we could stand for a century
    starin'
    with our heads cocked
    in the broad daylight at this thing
    joy
    landlocked
    in bodies that don't keep
    dumbstruck with the sweetness of being
    till we don't be
    told; take this
    eat this

    told; the meteorite is the source of the light
    and the meteor's just what we see
    and the meteoroid is a stone that's devoid of the fire that propelled it to thee

    and the meteorite's just what causes the light
    and the meteor's how it's perceived
    and the meteoroid's a bone thrown from the void that lies quiet in offering to thee