Well the whipping rush of pretend is gone,
Flown like it was flung
Sung by the bard, the bear, and the barrier
Breaking boards with fists seeking
Favor through whistles and grabs,
Dodging jabs and playfully dancing through the world.
Now is the hood wearer,
Bearer of bad news, old druid
Seeking communion with innocence,
Rickety fingers splaying to find the chords
Of hallelujah whenever he smells petrichor.
Damn this dust, this grime,
The time spent not knowing where or how
And seeking those things, trapped in the cycle of
Desire, expiring moments each wholly good or at least holy
I am no preacher, though
Every man may be in word or deed.
My gables are painted in the evening,
Serve drinks to uncles and daughters alike.
I celebrate the victory of symbol over symbol
Or even symbol over reality with the smashing of a glass.
I am borrowing ritual from everywhere trying to keep us
In the running. Across the churning waters is the sun
And beyond that the moon and beyond that a fox in the stars and beyond that
We are there again reaching out to each other, impenetrable distance disappearing
If only untraveled. And everything in this world lies down to rest and everything opens itself to me in these moments, dark or light so that it is all I can do to breathe
Breathe and remember this is not just a breaking or an ending or some god thing to be touched and remembered but to know ive got a girl
With lips like early spring and I’ve hunkered down in the rocks in the night and felt their cool rumbling in my bones and I’m singing a tune I never had to be taught
And though every week or more I might strut or play the part along another’s stage,
Beneath those boards lie the foundations I know so well
That I can touch and feel like the tide.