A Sensational Break

Morning flies as morning does
evening creeps like half-asleep breeze
morning’s hands raised jubilating
evening’s crown tucked under a wing.

The tongue wags about all day
saying more than it has to say
on its tip is a sly simplicity
and under its rug a lamp of wishes.

After the sun speaks rudely
before the moon shyly rises
there is a profane quickening
there is a break in the sky’s
ache to play god.

Grasses with no nobility at all
trees claim everyone’s attention
grass holds together the valleys
while trees look like an invention.

You cannot digest what’s best in the world
but eat which ones will serve you well
the adult boy eats his own growing words
and never will his fearful secret tell.

After the sun speaks rudely
before the moon shyly rises
there is a profane quickening
there is a break in the sky’s
ache to play god.

How our veins and muscles grow
is on a map laid out by bones
who made bones but tiny nerves
who want only to serve invisibly.

How the clouds flirt with horizons
and tease our still waking expectations
should have taught us by now not
to strangle heaven with our sensations.

After the sun speaks rudely
before the moon shyly rises
there is a profane quickening
there is a break in the sky’s
ache to play god.

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About mrsorenson

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

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