A Light That Clings
I wake in the half-world of our time,
Willing the whittle of my thoughts
Into a wind-shaped mask.
So much takes shape as I sift through these words.
Here’s a once fallow wish
That’s taken root
On my tongue’s brim; a sprout
Ascending through the sway of this line.
Here’s a sweetness that won’t recede
As I press forward; the weave
Of a well-felt moment
Removing a shard from my torn cuff.
Here’s the sea’s pitch and pull; the roiling
Of winnowed dreams; a light that clings
To the nib of my thoughts.
Nothing seems shallow;
Limiting.
The Seeker
My cares seemed an illusion
That mild day: fists
Unclenched; clarity;
Renewal.
I’d begun to sift
Through clutter and symbol;
Rethink my track,
Ear to ground.
Rising, spirited, determined:
I knew I’d find you; breathe life
Into your chalked image;
Coax hope from the grit; restore
My dust-covered globe.
I soon began to sort
Through phrases I’d broken,
Hunting for the right one
To wish upon.
I hadn’t yet begun to wonder
Which illusion I’d live: the brilliance
Of our joined bodies,
Or a glance
Milled from thought.
