Sunday, February 21, 2010

In between eggplant rollatini/eggplant napoleon, there lies poetry

So, before I write my next adventures in eggplant post and before I even eat said eggplant, I write a terribly trite poem...

Would I would revel in
Simplicities, the moments when,
For an instant, your eyes touch
Mine without hesitation
Without the scheduled timeline
Without remembrances of lost
Hands, eyes, mouth, breath.

But these words
Slovenly, lazy, unruly,
Errant stepchildren, who
Tie my laces and laugh
When I catch myself on jagged
Corners, betray me,
Knowing they are not what I intended.

Would I would stop myself
Before the words, smiles,
Caresses, escape me
Fleeing purposely towards your
Hands, eyes, mouth, breath.
You catch them, crushing or
Releasing them, never keeping them.
I am this way with you—
You still reside as a series of pixels
Numbers I refuse to keep.

But, could I leave I would not.
For what is possible without
An open heart, a bloodied
Thing, wild and fierce?
What is possible without a
Wounded soul, who yearns
For peace in
Hands, eyes, mouth, breath?