or why the brilliance
or why have we not
noticed not grabbed
and held in our hands
ideal of ripe life
with no trace of crumble
enough? for the eye
to skip from sky
round crimson clusters
and still green grass
gem-strewn with
that light we canโt
(it has been before)
too warm too dry
too full
to take in
deepest breath
of the day held
and held
to bursting
What a mix of feelings I get from this one. I’m summing them up as a sense of ripeness, things poised on one toe, held up by that breath we are not letting out. I hope this makes sense? I’m trying to say I love it.
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Yes it makes sense and I love how you say it, esp. “poised on one toe.” ๐ Thank you.
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the poem seems almost shakespearean to me — the love of language, the words that spill out. but it’s original, fresh, and exhilarating to read.
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Wow. I think I will float on this for a while. Thank you.
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Love, love, love the gorgeous ending. ๐
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I’m sure I was thinking about you–and yoga–in the breathing. Thank you.
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๐
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