the nearest poet takes you with him

I look up at the sky, with its streams of gold and blue,
and I see a banquet with all of my friends and ends.
I can see where there is all I’ll ever want, stretched out, endlessly.
and I walk slowly through the crowds and clouds,
stomp and crunch my way through knolls and streets;

here, now, I have everything I think I need.
and then I find the spaces where your lashes meet,
the homes of all our shadows before they extend themselves;

the nearest poet takes you with him, however he goes,
and if he’s wise, he only cries after he leaves you alone
to fend for your own self, against the harsh and coldest winds
as they strip away the lands bare and bury deep their seed.

we prove our worth together, breathing, like the earth forever-
round the sun, and the moons shining bright,
planted firm in our seats, we rise and fall with the sky.

there is no end to pride but the ride is what we’re after,
and when we finish our meals we’ll only hunger again.
so sweet is your brow after we’ve savored our smiles
that the thought of you continues as the years roll through,
and the nights seep in, and the darkness enshrouds.

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