I never re-blog, but here goes my first. Fantastic poem.
She won’t roll away & not watch me.
Y’see, I won’t seem to take,
When I dream (or I wake).
to take another breath before
The scene fades, before
lights go up
then down to more of a zoom.
She waits in our bedroom for me to resume.
We went to go to a yoga class.
Where a barefooted, hairpleated group leader;
beautiful, and calmer than a
merciful last coma,
She insisted that our deep breath is
the gist of all of it (within, & out).
We rearrange the short & tall of it.
The Gist to change the depth, see,
of our sea of possibillity.
When we inhale
we rememorize our own gods.
We exhale our hell. barefoot. on a mat.
Whew. To all that.
When I get to go to the Gulf of Mexico
I’ll try out into the drink, 1st thing.
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