RED MUSE POEMS  

By David Eide  

Reading, Brown Dress


Fingers are like tendrils of night.
Working into a spiral of splendid woods; bears
shamble after the scent of honey bees and woodsmen
drink up far-away springs looking for a place to crack
          the ax.

Your head, a meteor streaking through eternity;
Gently lifts pearls from dried up river beds on Mars.
Poets are water in waterless worlds. 
You come from ancient families who tilled the soil.
You kissed Assisi in gardens of speaking owls.
You delighted Buddha through clouds of unknowing.

Tell tales of broken hearts and take your fish
distilled drops of mercy; make love in blazing suns
on islands of undiscovered moons.

Take your thirst. Make it a wild river.

Drive madly on dry deserts of the heart.
Ignore crowds of the hungry and their tears of shame.
Collect the silence before the dance comes. The light.




NEXT POEM