Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Really Really Country Music

Speaking in an elegance, a discomfort
as with a coffin sound- I
would say a howl, an erasing
of space to help with
language. What is it. A
counting form an open ended.
Totally moving-not like
lace but hands gaining
a horse confronting
a beautiful thing. A corner,
a pair of cloves, strictly to
the column using inside
voices all the same in breath.

I have kept children hidden
like in romantic elements.
Everyone had their place and the place
was processing and cloth. It was the
three.
It was told.
It was the beginning of bleeding knees,
the hooves now lying besides
sticks.
Again making it the three.

Depending on the flow of the
Mississippi, one might prance
around with a ribbon in their
hair or a puffed out chest.

1 comment:

K. Silem Mohammad said...

This is a beautiful poem