Reaching Out Blindly, I Send You Water

I think I wrote you this poem,
but
I dont know who you are
or where.

The leaves curl upward when they sense rain coming.
Cup your hands to capture the manna that falls- some one,
some where, hungers. Some one thirsts.

the water gurgles to itself as it travels down the gutter
to the sea- theres a story underneath,but it runs too quickly
for you to capture more than a trickle as you reach out.

The other night she bathed in blue water, with bubbles.
She said she was taking a bath in the sky.
Remembering the womb, she smiles upwards.

I want to put on my longest swirly skirt and walk along the edge
of the sand barefoot and lean forward into the ocean, drinking it in.
I am craving salt, I want the brine to dry in ridges upon my skin.

Im sending you this poem
like a paper boat upon the sea sent by a child
who never understood a storm or saw a wreck
in hopes that you will understand the why
-and send it back.

Here

Time is a tree growing, and spreading.

Tip a drop of ink in the water.
Watch it expand while it disperses.

I am growing older, smaller
drop me in the Universe,
watch me expand, and disperse

Everywhere and nowhere
The leaf borne on the wind.

Lit

In the photo that you slipped
to the newspaper guy on the corner …
all those broken springs and shattered hands
and arcs of broken rims
- I couldn’t help but see him, even though there
was no body, and nobody.
Every small man part of him reflected
in cracked and broken time
caught in a thousand different frozen moments
all those broken faces-
I didnt need to see him
to know that he was a bomb, ticking.