after Blake

here is a lock
here a gate
there is an hourglass
clock that states:

“here lie the awful
,
drifting sands.”
A cage of flesh,
a cage of plans.

There is a man
on board a train
rocked by motion
numb to pain.

There is his life
it has a heart
it has an end
it has a start.

There is a you
there is a me
within the thorns
shall grow a tree

a lonely gutter
loves the street
that holds the steps
on which we meet,

and all of heaven
in your gut,
and lichen blooms
on old men’s huts

and all of hell
lies in your heart
a wedding ring
the darkest art

and all my pride
concealed my shame
the snakes uncoil
i cry her name

and all the green
that’s in a field
sings “let me live”
and “let me yield”

and all the rivers
filled with shit
the crayfish swell
the trout’s egg split

and all the money
whispers need
for cashmere coats
as corals bleed

oh all the fear
and all the pain
a world of flowers
each one named

and every spoke
on every wheel
knows every thief
reclaims and steals,

I see my hand
upon your face
yet every closeness
brings it’s space

every vision
offers wings
wants to show
each hidden thing

every child
that loves their dog
every virus
every log

every mother
every son
every moon
and every tomb

each broken sigh,
still pointed star
a bag of crisps
a lump of tar

each drop of water
pure as salt
intoxicated
mash of malt

a body trapped
a body sung
a swan of neck
a kiss, a tongue

a wound that bless
a look that curse
and pain persists,
a darkling nurse

an owl that blinks,
as ivy creeps
from morning’s wreck
til blessed sleep

this energy
will not be tamed
cannot be trapped
by maps of brains

as much as tides
or grass in wind
or slender trees
i love these things