merry wanderer of the night
Rain is simple
But rain comes from revelation
And staying up, cold, in a tent with the air wrapped around me
And my own breathing creating dewy marks on the pages of the poetry books,
Spilling out before me.
Glass falls from heaven
Shatters the sky with its old-fashioned purity
Creates the night in a hail of shards that touch on my feelings
Delicately
Hardly,
So I write,
Instead.
To push words deep inside the wounds that glass only scratched at.
I cry at night, thinking
How I’ve got to be more
And feel words gouge their way from my eyeballs,
Feel them crawl up my windpipe, swim my mouth like a race,
Knock across my teeth and dislodge life from the roof of my mouth
‘Till I swallow it and it settles in my stomach like acid, burning the old
Until the lining is knotted and I’ve got life running riot in my veins.
I write, write, write
So honey- slicks my fingers and I run my tongue over the -comb
Stand out on the branch of life,
Rocking dangerously
But there nonetheless
