. The Poet's Beat .

. The Poet's Beat .

Saturday, June 1, 2019

My Next Forty


I hunt glory in whatever hole it hides
chase danger o'er curling cliffs of thunderclouds in the sky
kiss babes in straw mangers before they fully awaken
   into the stranger lives
   those of us mortals have left behind
climb mountains to find the kind of death-defying
   peace of mind
   resigned to those whose bags are packed for the first sign of
   a fire burning as a beacon and a guide

let any demon of weakened souls be left behind
I stand unbeaten among those who seek freedom to deepen
   that courage
   it took to leave the Garden of Eden
you won't catch me sleeping crying or dreaming of leaping
   as if my ten toes are only teasing
   as if the slow concrete is already seeping into my bloodstream
   the moment like a sparrow fleeting
   pleading with my heart to cease its heavy heaving
   causing me to spend my days retreating

because I will have already leapt

I refuse to stick around a dying town to take bets
stand wagering whether or not I'll seize the day
find success
or digress
and live the rest of my life with regrets

no
like the peregrine I take flight
not gonna waste time considering if doing so
   is wrong
   or right
but just to feel the bite of cold wind in those heights
to feel alive
not merely as if I've just survived

leave that dignity-stealing feeling for those jokers
   who live simple
   and simply die
I'd rather exist for all that's in between those two brief junctures
   in a person's life
I abide with a different fire burning on the inside
I see the path with a different pair of green eyes
shame on me if you catch me standing by
   waxing my wings
   like a wet fly
the goddess has provided my immortal construction with an enigmatic design
the spark lit when I fell from my mother's thighs
   bellowing into existence a loud war cry

lo, if I do not try
try to reach the stars or
   fail to absorb their ancient light
   I will have committed a crime
or worse
a sin

and although I be a sinner
I am not that kind
the trade winds blow
   and off I
   MUST
   go
from open door to open door
I refuse fervently to be confined.

TA

1 comment:

  1. Wonderful poem. They all are.

    "the goddess has provided my immortal construction with an enigmatic design..."

    Splendid. Dazzling.

    ReplyDelete