L. Edgar Otto 17 May, 2012
Our influences extend out a bit from our fief
even if ours but half of infinity, contained in but a satrap
While our frail and airy universe doubles in doubling
we stand self reliant and independent serfs in the commons
Those who know count and contain us in the gnomons
as the marsh gas rises, all the mudflat bubbles burning
The earth sweats and moans and reeks of sulphur
fireworks in clouds of celebration or sheet thunder of wars
The tubers mature with a little frost, eighty percent of water
we carry and meter from place to place, uphill, into wells
Will hexes on the barns, built in a day, falling in a wink
hold back swirling angry clouds, a deluge of occluded fronts?
We where not made to worship but one sun nor forever heed multitudes of voices within in our left or right thousand ears.
* * * * *
The mare maid within needs to free herself from love, not for her soul but to find again time her river returning to the sea
The fishermen repair their nets as they weave their rumors
the Japanese bobbins break free, metastasized like tumors
Not the cannon balls on iron clad once wooden ships nor acrid smoke and bleeding ears, but the lesser dins wax clogs
Who recalls the spectrum of freezer burn, lead cans, horsey apples trampled deserts concrete, wilderness wanderers
Homeless but kept moving each day some Thanksgiving on the endless place and show, we hippodrome Golem streets
Cannot stray too far from her water memory, and tail fin brain or superficial cutting up from herself her self scarred rain
You did not know I could feel it, the but gesture of the depth
breaking no bathroom doors down, out waiting your own bluff
* * * * *
The harvest will be thin this year, yet so close the moon
plainsong and fiddled but are sweet, Virginia reel the tune
As we change imaginary partners that tangle up our dreams
forget how rare the green, and loam, virginal our biome
At the prom we wash our faces in cold water, nails whittled away the loess to square dance fertile wall flowers
Make spirals around the maypole in perfumed flower dance until it heats the hive melts the wax and honey
The stray one at the table after chores, not born to chase the red lights in Laredo in privacy's closed doors, passion's heat
Distracting at some climax slips in little Eros to pick the pocket of his pants, his wallet, watch and chain
So its nickle, nickle mister, little girls with wide sun dress
curtsy to catch the pennies thrown, International Bridge
* * * * * * *
The little boys in some sailors hat push her down and take the change, That once my land, borders no free range
Until the seasons shift again and saplings not deer foreclosed
yellow red or black and white all are precious in the night
Love exists and thrives in shadows, best its moon and books out of sight, dolphins from the Amazon bring us virgin birth
So the sailors and fishermen telling growing tall tales
minnows between their legs as whales, her mountain range
Little Cupid street wise waif zebra fish excited, peat bog tannin while rare the mythic Nessie, cold the river Shannon
We would drown ourselves making hay if the sun would always shine until we need to walk on eggs water into wine
That our jelly mollusk souls change in the shadow shanties on the beach, water forgetfulness that we dance nude
* * * * * * *
Love is the first creative act, our seeds renewed, endure enhanced, how ridiculous the effort, God's invention
Each us a voyager of discovery on unknown starless seas
not far from the sea breeze, hurricanes and doldrums
We run until exhausted and the ice flow breaks, our cabins built too close the river, no one to teach the fry that wisdom
That the scales that shelter them become their teeth
so too the casual declaration of love contained in belief
As if we can catch the sky and river's receding rumors...
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