Plain American Language

I cut a sliver/of WC William's finger
and placed it inside/my philosophy...

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Love Song (this one rhymes...weird!)

If I were a windmill, I would grind up against you.
And, being thorough,
Continue to turn.
Please, though it may burn,
And the bottom of my floor
Is dusted; the door
Terribly hinged and the latch
Broken with a catch
When you open it a crack,
There is song in touch,
The stone, my back,
Your traces. Much

I've thought of you, and things that linger:
Your finger
Against mine.
Windmill, salt and grain.
Lengths of song, where it rests.
Winter, warmth, our chests,
And, what,
As if there were some answer
Cleaner than the mouth of a cut
Around a cord of wood, or
With more purpose?
Ultimately, it is the grain
The windmill is dependent upon:
Therein lies the song.

1 comment:

...and Enide said...

If I were a windmill, I would grind up against you.
And, being thorough,
Continue to turn.

These three lines are brilliant. I love the meter. I love the metaphor. You should try a metrical poem!