Finally Asking

On the surface might I be
instrumental
the reed in the muddy hand

of the historical crow
all she does
is write my vision up early

scratching out time with me
conditionally
spinning my accounting of

the irreverent and irrelevant
pontifications
holding the current no matter

how resistant to redirection
are the eddies
in the buds, are the lappings

on the banks, seemingly
drifting but
determined bend by bend to continue

in the service of every millennium
a new one
donated often damaged

described always altered
I can’t keep up
plenty of ink but not enough

pages as she well knows
with a caw
and a flutter she reminds me I

am too fluid and transient too
free of flaw
to violate her winged will

and so on across lines on maps
and so on
irrespective of recurring shadows

deeper and wider and out of
perspective
a composite of the passivity of ripples

uncontainable she flies away
when I finally
ask where are you today?

Advertisements

About mrsorenson

all over the place
This entry was posted in poem, poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s