(for the Dutch poet Joop Bersee)
I think of the love songs on the radio
and think of you in a faraway city. In-
side this mute space I have wings. I forget
the structural damage that comes with
the despair that love brings with it.
I glide and float away thinking to myself
of a cure to the warmth of the day,
the vanishing of the birds, and the distance
of the blue care of the sky. We angle
justice our way. It's an adjustment but
it is also an anthem for the landscape
that has given birth to us. I think of the
shine of the day. I'm reading the words
of my poems. The cold ocean washes my feet.
I think of great lakes and rivers. Eating
steak on a pensive, moody sunny day.
The fire and myth in all poetry and prose.
The extra-ordinary day. I ponder
the vague hour wondering when you
will come back to me. Giving me back
the ecstasy of being in love with you,
and it seems as if I've been kept waiting
for reliable things. Caught in-between
crossing the water and wild geese calling.
The Piker Press moderates all comments.
Click here for the commenting policy.