Butterfly Cauldron
Thursday, July 06, 2006
The world loves a poet, so why can't I get laid?
Moon in Scorpio
I ache with this
Bones hollow, like birds
Knocked down by gravity,
Feathers spinning before me to
Cushion the impact.
I will crash
(the repeating pattern of my life)
Against the rocky hills of you and
Scramble for purchase.
How often have I done this?
How often grabbed from flight and
Held by hands,
Fingers stroking at my desheveled heart.
I don’t learn.
I love recklessly, over and over.
And it’s always a surprise,
This aching, downward spiral.
Eagles are wiser than this,
But not hummingbirds and
My wings beat faster, wilder,
More frantic than theirs.
I ache with this
Bones hollow, like birds
Knocked down by gravity,
Feathers spinning before me to
Cushion the impact.
I will crash
(the repeating pattern of my life)
Against the rocky hills of you and
Scramble for purchase.
How often have I done this?
How often grabbed from flight and
Held by hands,
Fingers stroking at my desheveled heart.
I don’t learn.
I love recklessly, over and over.
And it’s always a surprise,
This aching, downward spiral.
Eagles are wiser than this,
But not hummingbirds and
My wings beat faster, wilder,
More frantic than theirs.
Labels: poetry
2 Comments:
Oh, I'd totally do you.
Oh, there you go, teasing me again :)
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