the change in its whispering whipping against itself
each slender blade flagellating the other
in this dance that makes sounds like blood
that sprays lightly above their pointed ends
and suddenly the sound changed
the grass beating against your legs
turning into a tap, a rhythm rather than a rant
as though it was confused
in the midst of its frenzy to find opposition
and like a woman instead of turning on you
for standing in the midst of its worship
merely turned its worship to you
and that's how I saw you first
standing there with the grass wrapping around you
twisting up and along the lines your skin made against the dusk
white streaks in the shadow
soon blurred beneath the green
and you didn't say a word
just stood there waiting, watching
as though the sight of me adrift in the mud
was a casual common thing
so i stood too letting the black drip
drawing its own lines against my skin
it had not rained in so long.
it has been so long since i have seen you.
you lit a cigarette and offered me a hand
so I took it and climbed out crushing the grass beneath my feet
and we walked away
leaving the grass to begin again
singing its whipping song in the dusk
1 comment:
alright so.. i was strumming a little on my guitar, while reading this poem -and your words seemed to fit just right and I just had this picture in my head and had to get it down before I forgot it, so I stole a few lines.
and it changed into something very different from what you have written, I definitely twisted your words into something else. so.. I was wondering if you want to hear this and have some thoughts for re-writing it? it's the rhythm I like,
--
and I could use some guidance on understanding what this poem means..
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