All Things C

In some dark curve
Those limber tones
That bounce in fresh patrol
Those shadowy flecks of sand
And powder and soft as the day we were born
Perhaps softer than that
Oh, C
With your guitara
Your matador cape
Your puffy cheeked exuberance
Never quite sure of what you should believe in
What should be questioned
Why it should be the way it was
Sublimely soft C
After leaving your skin behind
Your polish and garb
All the things you were
Silent tsunami
Rolling under it all
Why did you offer
What can't be accepted
Only later to give so carelessly
In the flaming patterns of decency
Left scathed
Scraped and dented
All the things that should have been
All the things, C
The harmonics of your golden identity
Your falling into that well
Between two continents
That left you scarred
With so much elegance
So much nature
Rich natural C
So much so
You own it
Own it all
All that is that is C
All that is not
Is not worth addressing
Not worth undressing
Not worth the papyrus they soak into
Two circumstances as gifts
To carry all the weighty packages ever to plague
Aching scapula
Tender shoulder
Salty neck
The meat in the cheek
So succulent
As to make the trip worthwhile
All that is left
A box with stolen light
A folder in a drawer
Scribbled into the corners of some mouth
C
Listed on some faculty showing
Maybe donated into some museum collection in Algiers
Grown bubly
Marked and fruited
A different lanscape, C
Anytime can be your time, C
It's always going to be right there, C
Always and forever for all of time in all circumstances and every
which way, C
Gather it when you need it
From those who can shed
The shaded impotence of your overdrawn likeness
The murky remainder of all the deeds that balance
The shucked wheat that speaks of you fondly
C
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10.27.09