Friday, December 23, 2011

little derps

Hills in ecstasy of different color, grief in punishing midday summer, grief some more under the pressure of men a restless whisper scattered across, unable to breath unable to rest.  

Robert Creeley-The Language
Mothers gift...(Those who bring the gift of language) this poem is rather a thank you.)

Mother to daughter….
Locate I love you somewhere in
Those words lingering between
Teeth and eyes, bite it but
Never without meaning
Take care not to hurt, you want so
Greedy needy but…
Much so little. Words say everything.
Something needs to be remembered
I love you again,
Then what is emptiness for. To
Build bridges of wisdom
Fill,fill. I heard words and words full
Of color to paint the world
Of holes aching. Speech is a mouth.
Full  of endless love….