Monday, January 14, 2008

Each Day Always

corridors rendered in guilt,
hidden in sod,
the crime of touch,
an indecently exposed spirit--
the time signature masks
and orders these sundries
as a God in His
first uncreated heaven,
willing in a ballet of motion--
patches of unorganized
laundry on a line,
slowly passing from
eyelash-bathed abstraction
with the blank purity of
receding dreamtime--
decomposed beings, the rivers
through which they passed--
their wind-trembled roots
grasping with broken fingers,
the heralding branches an
evidenced mitzvah--
and many lives will
thrive on this placental
woodland crypt,
as it unites blues with all the
unkempt exactness
of a water cycle,
defying architecture,
usurping the tide,
and making familiar children
from gravely unspeaking
each day always
is a resurrection.

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