Doug Ramspeck
NOTES FOR THE MORNING ORBIT
and always the problem of prayer—
wind brushing over the hair on our arms,
the sunlight we hoard on our skin
that moment when
we invent a certain
methodical throbbing to our hearts
a rhapsody of waking a half-scissor
of a leg kicking for the floor
the spirit breaking and entering
the daily orbit of regret spinning us
toward some cartoon apocalypse
the hours like a sleight of hand
No comments:
Post a Comment