At the Door

The red birch chair
My underwear naked in this seat
That feels entirely too cold
To fasten ass in

My pattern of effect
Has lost the luster
Often stretched
Into the meaning
Found in every moments death

Kind and distant waves
Fish and swim about
Airs rage
Wind caught gasping, gaped
In tolerant behavior

A soundless sigh
Exhales the universe
Almost forgotten
Before the first
Is leveled out
Across the bank
Of indication

Proud-like roar
The cane like floor
That bothers to abandon
Reconcile
At the door

When the push
Is flaccid posture
That desires
So much more
Will awakens
Non-stop
Affirmations
Bound to break
And scold release
In lacerations
Cardinal to the making

The candid richness
Of a song
Written
Falling
Found
And gone
Before the breakfast table
Sets itself to feast

The bitter china
Still and quiet
In my cabinet
Cannot bring
The mean and matter
To displace
Where spoons and forks
Have always known
They had a place

© GÄ

Published by

Geino Äotsch

|B|arber |M|usic |T|ea I am an artist & an advocate. A spiritual lover. Executive Director for ALARK.org Author of Poeticword.com & tHEtERRYtREE.com Creator & Owner at Goldenlungtea.com Music & Hair at Geinos.com