Monday, July 5, 2010

maybe words grow

I try to fit these thoughts
into the     narrow rooms      of words
but doors swing open   out they burst
float down long and lonely   bee paths to afternoon paths with no ends
lost off anyone's cliffs
edges of perception   slippery and  full of holes
can't hold anything in
instead of skipping    the show
not clothing the ego
they find a way to just be   lost
not in words   not in a face's embrace   not still they burst


the rhythm of breathing
attitude's the respirator    we suck in the honey
pumps life       like pulling the wings off insects
cut apart   here or long gone   like grandmother's lilacs
flies high     unseen
keeping me alive


those words   drip back down throats
a way of sitting   of hearing once
voiceless birds     who are fine to sing in silence
as the trees know
have grown days    gathered sprout into luscious season
each ring in a trunk   each notch on a stick   each nameless chic
is a tune from beak
this is not nature      human dysfunction


too unsimple to unravel in words
instead leap dripping   with crazy chirping    hollowed echoes   empty
from unexplained leak    drips all the natural solutions
and human falsities        to lies    stalagmites in secret caves
neon vibrations light up caverns     lost is an easy place to find
rooms too narrow      to get intimate    lest by chance, desire's dance


looking down in the water     today its even clear
through ripples only   see what they see    really
pick heads off thoughts
like dandelions    make mother's butter    on a little chin
spread on yoke of her egg     breadth of own shoulders
plough through conversation
hardly even planting a seed     maybe


copyright July 2010, Theresa Ullyot

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