Could've startled the sunrise hearing you weep.
You're not seen, you're not heard
but I stand by my word.
Came a thousand miles
just to catch you while you're smiling."
the heat and the rain called up all the smells water on rocks sun on my skin and where the coyote came up through tall grass onto the road behind me there are no tracks. we walk a little more slowly through the shade grass damp cool coming off the rock wet from last nights rain fields snowy with queen anne goldenrod blooming yellow and green yet. what song would the round bales play, a golden scroll for the musicbox of august? the daylilies are stalks the teasel a head of pins.
corn tassel sunset surrogate between green fields and grey stitched with barnswallows this my mockingbird summer. wheel song between the black jockey and the veal farm between sqallor and pearl i sing my space madrigal between stubblefield crows and sumac groves around the old well.
"What a day for laughter and walking at night.
Me following after, your hand holding tight.
And the memory stays clear with the song that you hear.
If I can but make the words awake the feeling."
lightning corners difficult to navigate pot hole slush margins between me and purple dim refuge a thin treacle of air before it sieved and vaguely desperate. i offer myself to be of use. clear. open. through sherman hollow the inexorable sucking sound of time briefly stupefied where the veil gets thin near the owl house. black big buoy and a good view lawn tchotchkes smell of meat and fire death money ghosts of muskrat earth turtle black cattle when he was a boy. faerie bright under the overcast and rustle. toes in the breeze. my hat on.
after six years we finally got that first kiss out of the way. a delayed valentine to know we were sure.
the old road. it begins to rain in the graveyard naming names cowboys and indians at the edge of the hedgerow he and i concealed in recent alchemy new wine in an old old bottle one crouching one erect offering old wine over the bones. ive been listening to loving cup by the rolling stones black cat nebula around my neck. breeding the spiderplant. the song time sings me.
"What a reason for waiting and dreaming of dreams.
So here's hoping you've faith in impossible schemes,
that are born in the sigh of the wind blowing by
while the dimming light brings the end to a night of loving."
the road goes on forever and the party never ends.
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Blessed Be.