Democrat, Illinois - The ElectroLounge

104 !
Passing Water
Sing the hours true & know the hunger
is bound in breathing itself, its walls,
beams, what girds underneath. Breeze moves
each & all, one wind, many, & rains
fall with the ceaseless questions & some
answer. Want born, roots, thus musics bloom.
Next hill may show whatever the burning
smell in the air, or within heart’s bluest
scent itself, or where bound world’s greater
arc half risen. Sing the hours true,
chop wood, carry water, reck every hour’s
pulse of promise & ache, what stays, what going.
Ferment & strew, drifting lash on a curved
warmth, news of today’s annihilation in
god’s praise. Crack the wish to notice newly,
the long remembered page’s lean wisdom,
dream’s luring distant treeline. Every heart blows
through empty fields with obscure intent.
World manifests in you for its own reasons,
many, & none at all.
!"#$%#&'()#$*$+,$*$-.&#$/001!
!
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May 25, 2008
Portland, Oregon