Saturday, February 23, 2019

As A Vine

Existing as a vine, I brought you my love
from every avenue.
I learned from bird flocks, and like them,
I spoke and sang without interpreter.

Each time you sought my source,
I grew a hundred more arms, your slaves. 
I said, "Kiss my lips, wherever you find them."
Hummingbirds carried our portraits in a locket.

Clouds are never far from the sky, love.
Blue jays find them and call.
We hid our first hearts at the base of a wall,
faces furled at our fingertips

Crying, "Look here! Look here!" in magnificent cowardice. 
________

For The Sunday Muse #44.

Upon Receiving My Woodstock Chimes

Asian pear tree branch
mother of April's white blooms 
hosts brass temple bells 

____

A hai...ha...hik...
A three line poem for "Season Your Poetry"

Someone activate the holo-doctor. I feel funny.