tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post1097645576229526160..comments2023-05-17T02:25:11.072-07:00Comments on Pure Joy and Poetry: "What Arms You Have Afterward"Pure Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674243171596188068noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987754563301541397.post-13236193416248975402013-07-28T21:20:04.262-07:002013-07-28T21:20:04.262-07:00Scissor the leaves, swallow,
crawl, full to burst...Scissor the leaves, swallow, <br />crawl, full to bursting, just somewhere<br />out of sight.<br />Silk yourself in wax and wait<br />in the dark, encased. <br /><br />It's true, the vines grow while you<br />hang in stasis.<br />It's true, the growth of the world<br />passes before the closed eye<br />unseen.<br /><br />Imbroglio in brotherhood, no<br />cracking <br />the shell will help.<br />The inner wing must<br /><br />tear at the cocoon.<br /><br />When no nest is<br />forthcoming<br />a roost<br />might have to do. Until<br /><br />such a time<br />as the dishwater drains,<br />and the dishes once well used, <br />now well washed, <br />emerge smooth and white,<br />glistening wet.<br /><br />They are slowly fanned<br />in the streetlight to throw off<br />the last drops of water.the Crow himselfhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11100673282021351921noreply@blogger.com