reading neruda

and rilke and wallace stevens while
drinking coffee on a windy day leaves
strewn and carpeted where i walk out
to taste the wet air there are no
angels here to administer the potion
but a mockingbird flies to the tree
of life and settles in a cloudy sky
above reaches out to embrace
the rim of earth and in
the cup a gift of blue porcelain appears where
the coffee is not

anymore having been sipped a moment
ago it is well on it's way and sinks 
below

the doors of my mouth a metaphor for
forgiveness curls against the roof of my
mouth a tiny leaf
posing as an omen yellow and serrated
lands on the keyboard i have come
from nowhere and am lost again
it says in conclusion 

Comments

[Bob]

Hey Rohn, long time no comment, just surfing around and am so happy I checked your site, this so great, I absolutely love the middle section, but the whole thing is truly superb. Happy New Year and stop by once in a while.