sAyingsometHing

Art, poetry, digital art, photography, criticism and essays.

19 Feb 2007

from THE DAYLIGHT SECTIONS (67)

she offered waning moonlight before releasing
me, prematurely. now the tree breath
and the justice in a feathered wind
comes home to me.

I limit nothing step by stance
taking a chance and finding
present tense. if only she
(but I worry here, as well, even without her).

morning repeats itself.
the daily surge of new surprise
bespeaks her readiness as purity.
I talk to her when daylight is still fresh.

and what she says back has no language now.
I listen anyway. she says never to
give up on any breathing
thing, the full subject of worship is its dance.

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