Saturday, August 31, 2013

rather

the crickets are chirping
but I wish it were rain tapping

walking the dog tonight, on a green leafed tree
there was one fire like frond
dangling in the middle
an oddball
a spark in the midst of
a spinning meadow

I feel like a swirling, wobbling top
one moment nostalgic
the next, explosive

wanting to be held and touched and set on fire
needing to hide and withdraw
to melt and remold

there are so many simple solutions
which simply solve nothing

but the only elucidation
the only remedy
is ticking along, measuring the number of heart beats
that seperate yours
when it beat
from mine.

so it seems
the path from that pain
to the entrance to something
disparate

needs distraction
decoration
dedication
diversion

but the dry, dry nights
with the crickets
and soft silence
drawn out

darkness
they are empty
slow
full of nothing but noticing

I'd rather it rained.