Saturday, June 16, 2012

Enraptured in the Ease of Octopus Afternoons


Enraptured in the Ease of Octopus Afternoons

Thursday nights and Sunday afternoons
These expanses of time to prove
And ease places that these mixes can embrace
A surety that supersedes ingratitude

That saccharine of time, of surfeit lines
So compacted into a beginning, this intensity of living
That this emulsifying solution of faith and doubt
Can somehow come out clean

In these weeks spun sugar into straw of months
Into golden years of joys employed like bolted wires
Tension endured and fibrin fibers clotting this blood
To heal these scars of inevitable intermittent dissonance

These ears pray to resolve in adult overtones and find a home
That is not subject to foreclosure of overextended exposure
To the same face, the same lines, the same words and more time
Than we know how to handle like overflowing oceans

Flooding a beach that seemed so serene even in the cloudless moments
Before the category five was swarming in like a hive of wasps
Pouncing on the pause between complacency and love
Created a space to shove in assumptions and boot out that margin for error

Always assumed would be there fostered in those nights
Bonding these wires and fibers of life enraptured in the foundation
To survive these times, and with you I hope and with her I felt
A suicide in the night, a betrayal in the broadest light

Staring into the sun and these burnt pupils, the dark circular aperture
In the center of it all, to let go and live blindly in this orchard
To eat these grapes and grow this wine and drink the byproduct of all this time
These years wrapped and bottled in age, to apply labels

And felicity with choreography of knowing the steps you and I will take
The plans like an unspoken numbered system founded without pause
That I can swap the order of these feet and you will not run
This comfort like an octopus of eight-thousand arms wrapping me

Pulling me down into this deepest sea of waters I have always hoped to find
A Shangri la of rapture, not captured, but encompassed
In that every direction of desire points the needle to you
This life a part from all those sun pierced days living with you at the end of this maze

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