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Sight
Clears
Returning
To forestland
A healing balm
Of sage & bay
A Stenciled
Sifted
Petal
Twirling
The untouched
Journey
Hewn
A reprieve
Into the good stone
Unparalleled
Rest
Crashing
Well-kept
Trust.
The great hall
Is empty
Ships are
Still
The nudes’
Patina have grayed
The wanderings
Of children
Are a seaside
Cliff
Leading to
The craggy edge
If not
For the London phone booth &
His presence
Steeping
Like homemade jam.
Agitation
From the language of Earth
Creates a
A fresh-water
Pearl
Sorting
Honor &
Dishonor
Appliqued
Heavier
Draped
Upon the resident
Guest
As a carriage
Of tales
And light
Are
Gathered
In & out
Of season
The sand dollar flock is
Liberated
Cracked
Open
Brittle
Dispersed
Freed.
A new sapling
Like a soft tartan
Landscape
Enclave
Sweeps rhododendron.
I have been
Taken
From the
Mercenary
Stripped
Infused
With boldness
Muted
To the earnest
Isle
Sloping the water’s edge
Dappled
Conceived
In birdsong
And winding roads
Curling dreams
Into fresh air
Rocking horse fields
And butterscotch trees.

Now
Light brushes through
The window
Cracks
In patterns
Here an arc
There
A wheel
And in the center
Angels
Surrounded
By portals
Where Love
Holds
Sway
Lavish
Vibrant
Overseeing
The cutting
Devoted
To the becoming
Insistent
About the process
A pond of past
A future
Domed,
Covered
Carrying wish lists
And Communion
Like mortar & pestel
Spears.
There
Is fruit
In the balance
Heritage hangs
From the rafters
A mountain
Of relics
And empty
Shells
Are
Left
In September
The succulent feast
Brings a garden
Of tastes
Pineappled lamps,
And hedgehog potatoes,
Maidens in nightdresses
Past pears
And Picnic
Hampers
Through forests
Of rooted
Siblings
& moths.
A lark
Makes its way
Down Canterbury Road
To nourish the nest
Within.
The point was
Missed.
The point being
Simply this:
Home is
Wherever
I am.

 

gjh.

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