Thursday, December 1, 2011

John Wieners, Bless My Trip

I had love once in the palm of my hand.
See the lines there.
                                      How we played
its game, are playing now
in the bounds of white and heartless fields.
Fall down on my head, love,
drench my flesh in the streams
                                of fine sprays. Like
                                       French perfume
so that I light up as
                                     mountain glorys
and I am showered by the scent
                          of the finished line...
(from 'A Poem For Painters' By  John Wieners)

1 comment:

Mike Vance said...

make it all happen my friend, then come back home and fill a glass with yer old pal redbeard