Thursday, September 22, 2011

Crossing Across Space

I've nothing for you
Take my empty hand
No boots
No dresses
No beauty parlor visits
No foreign money orders
No running through the airports
No crowded photographs
No long lost embrace
I'm wearing no sleeves
No sack on my back
Working in the chimney
Covered in soot
I've only a heart pumping blood
A brain for collecting image
A tongue to taste
Sweet words of the lips
And eyes
To capture the light
Of your heart
And the warmth of your
Love
Which is more than enough for me
Enough for any man
To live out his days
thousands of miles of railroad tracks
Away from the epicenter
Of your garden
How the garden swells
In the spring
What wondrous
Gifts the gentle rains bring
The music of the spheres
The trumpets of bees
While worlds away
You and me
gaze deeply
hand to hand

pmpope 2011

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