Take It Home In a Glass Jar

1. geese fly backward-- across the skies of my brain. a winter foretold in my lungs… 2. a word is forgotten-- as the wheelbarrow turns, a forlorn wheel the corruption of rust the only blessing… 3. most of words i have tucked-- into my breast pocket, have blown away constellations without names… 4. as leaves glide into the spaces of sentences-- my footsteps hidden, by the winds emergence as i step on the mysterious punctuations of sunflowers as a touchstone in uncertain times… 5. my lips soundless as my cane-- finds the right path as paragraphs merge into their own engines of meaning… 6. i have chosen not to say-- for my language holds no beauty no comfort as galaxies swarm stellar tipped over hives, in impossible dog-eared dictionaries… 7 for in the night a moon-- like a shapely nude i touch with my eyes my eyelashes brush gentle like a moth, end-month moon blooms in misting window, my misfiring synapse bend a spoon i have barrowed-- a worn metaphor left behind in the empty poem. perhaps a child may find it and take it home in a glass jar…