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