R Soos: September 2015

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

I push my child
soft away and she comes back
yelling "harder please"

folks speak poetry
it's a matter of habit
from deep in the soul

I keep my world small
family books home and food
very small poems

strings keep the guitar
catching tears in the wooden
body with music

many old poems
have the language of flowers
that have never bloomed

uses the brushes
that were cleaned in the sunlight
to wake the painting

readingancientgreek
makesmewonderifwecould
stillreadwithoutspace

won't stand still for you
often it stands on its head
waiting for your tune

I would go places
poems live before they find
their way to paper