Source: Humble Bee
I’ll make it tall
Enough to merge with cloud;
The bonfire’s billowing plume.
It soaks into cloth and flesh,
Sends flakes of fine carbon
Skyward searching for a face
To land on.
Would that one finds yours,
Ash marking you softly
Smudges on your forehead
Because you were looking up
And saw my message. I hope
To see your reply borne on the wind
‘Ere the sky fades and another night
Consumes the wood and fire and smoke
And vanishes hope
I’ve always thought that it is better to put your work out there and release it (and yourself) from the endless cycle of revision and second-guessing. This poem is one such piece that I finally decided to just let go of and see where it went. Maybe the wind will take it somewhere unexpected.
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When the snowmelt releases its rivulets
Cold, shining, bearing along a leaf here,
And there an off-cast piece of human living
They run down, over the hills whose heads
Are covered with last year’s
Hair, tall grasses bent and slicked
With a pomade of cold weight: carved
Channels for the water, slipping
Over and among wispy, brittle stalks.
Thanks for reading! Wrote this pretty quickly, but I thought it had a nice rhythm to it so I didn’t do much editing. Let me know what you think in the comments!