Something weird is happening -- I'm writing again. I thought this part of my life was gone forever. This isn't a great poem (nor was the last one), but it's a place to start. If I keep writing new things a few days a week, I might be able to get back into the flow I once knew with words and images.
[image source]
Release
Waves of afternoon sunlight
blur the edges of things,
saguaros seemingly soft,
blue sky diffuse,
out of focus.
A cottontail huddles
beneath a cholla, and even
the silly doves are quiet:
so little to be said
when shadows hide
under rocks.
Each deep breath, each
gauzy instant offers a doorway
beyond salty skin,
but I can't release
my grip . . . .
Sweat trickles
down my forehead,
into my brow, stings
my eyes: a subtle pain,
like longing . . .
Technorati Tags: Poetry, Release, Heat, Desert, Longing
Del.Icio.Us Tags: Poetry, Release, Heat, Desert, Longing
Bill I'm enjoying your poetry so much,even though I'm going to try and "release my grip" I'll look forward to reading your new works when we get back. Happy blogging!
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