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out of reach ~ (an Orphani poem)

going to work
another person is closing
the opening world, belonging
to some final forever
in the dreams of their hands

flaking pigments rise
to the order of the dust
while the lords of sun rule the air with smells
below Cleveland street signs decaying their molecules
mathematically into summer's heat

girls and flowers swear with pheromones
milkweed, asters and Queen Ann's lace
trespass their penetrations among the chain-linked fences
unstoppable tangle of honeysuckle roots
in veins of alley-way jungles
while birds nest in the belly of the world
out of reach where I go, awakening the green apples.

Last few words: 
I thought I'd post Barry's newest poem... published in Deep Cleveland this week. http://www.facebook.com/notes/deep-cleveland-poem-o-the-week/out-of-reach/180104795386187
Editing stage: 

Comments

thank you for sharing this poem of Barry's,
I particularly liked the "awakening the green apples"
and the "girls and flowers" line ... scrumptious poetics.

a nod to ya Barry

He's still my favourite poet....other than Bukowski, Neruda, Rumi, and a few others.

;-)

Thanks for reading, I'll let him know.

Btw, thanks to the politics of the day, (thank you Dan for bridging the gap!) did anyone ever consider how many good poets were driven away (not by the stuff flying back and forth) but
by the poetry *sewing* circle's manipulations? It seems to m that fledgling poets have issues with taking in all kinds of critiques, even ones that might be considered *nasty*, were one not
knowledgeable of the poet's intentions. (Think Jess and think Kal, both pushed buttons, but their intent was *to get over yourself*.

Without good poets here, I mean of every style and persuasion, what IS Neopoet?

We're all a little less for the loss of Kal and Barry here.

And if the Neopoet body doesn't think so, well I suppose they're happier human beings.

~A

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