Sunday, January 25, 2009

Mixed emotions

torn like paper
along the cut already scored
I heard you speak of Word;
heard, too,
that deeper call to phrase and frame
to cage this tiger in a cardboard box
from which I long to leap like flame,
burning through to the essence;
burning away all that comes between
Word and me
burning like that crazy bush,
full of light, but,
not consumed.

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