Friday, December 21, 2012

it's hard to have good posture when the heat's out




it's hard to have good posture when the heat's out
huddled by the space heater, a crisp breath billows
more quiet than a shout, like an apple well stored


anticipate benevolence in velvet depth as night turns
learn to breathe in breathe out, feel the fronds
of guanyin's willow supple and stout


what was once travail turns _______* at the core


[*Note: each time read, place a different adjective in the blank, from this list
or your imagination: 

hopeful, growthful, trilling... ]

[or what about removing "at the core" - although I like the resonance with apple in stanza 1]

so
what was one travail turns to ease

[is this an artifact of feeling cold, the incapability of completing a thought/poem?]

[other ideas on how this poem could end?]

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