January 5, 2006
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Here's a genuine bird and lil IM poem, edited and neatened up, written three nights ago. He gave it to me, for "P-bam," a gift from the bird. We've not written like this since September, so this was a treat.
I am troubled
And must sit with it,
Held in deepest rose.
Only this
Will comfort me
While i wait for indigo
Or morning,
Time of solitary bloom,
Or going home ...
Running through sunrise,
I step on cracking places,
Hard
As my heart was
Yesterday,
Tomorrow's indignities,
I'm torn,
Edges
Carefully sewn.
In stunned focus
I fall Into roses,
Further than thorns grow,
Turning
Towards sundown,
Even at dawn.
Hawks hung in the air,
Curious
Circling furiously,
Sad fellows
Of dusk.
I left too soon,
They will be hungry.
Unclaimed musk
Flavors the night,
While I wait
Watching the gate
You do not open.
pearlbamboo/p-bam
copyright e.p. hodges
Comments (2)
it reads sad... like the poet anticipates the end of something ("towards sundown even at dawn")... or maybe it's just that jaded cynicism that develops in those who micro-analyze?
Hits me in the heart. :'} Miss you, my friend.
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