Poetica Spontenaium 7/15/04
If I could
I would.
I would reach my hand out
Through the multiplexed jello of memory
tangled with thorns and lost love notes
To pull you through by the collar to my kiss.
I would pluck away the nightmares,
brush away the lost hours
Pick clean your unwilling heart
From all sense of shame.
Lay your head across my lap
And softly pour warm clouds and dreams into your ear.
No poison. No missing Act in this play.
Just dreams of futures past, and futures new.
A kinship rebuilt from scrapiron and duct tape.
With a clean firescape inside.
I would teach you to whistle
spells that tranformed blues into violets
Sweet bouquets would fall from your lips
And I would bury my nose in the kiss
Of lilacs and new bloomed posies.
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