"jeremiah ray poetry"

how far must skeletal
branches reach to the
touch silvery moon?

a cloud
too graceful
to be gray
what do i know
of gray

gray morning
hot tea
my thoughts aside
watching for sunlight
licking sweet tea
from my lips
i want to hold time
just still it enough
so the daylight crawls
never fully arriving
and my tea
never gets too cold

in the woods i hold silence

i wish to be a tree

it moves when moved

it does not mimic or copy

it is honest

snowmelt drip
and geese
rhythmic patter
calls of encouragement
during the journey
to where
and from where
always these questions

i have not entered the room
where
we consumed one another.
our fleshy beings feasted.
light enters
sending shadows
moving.
a breeze, soft as breath,
stirs echoes.

it is too still today
to begin.
i hope the sun
never fully breaks
the clouds.
i hope my mind stays
foggy
and no one says a word.

my body is a memory
of you.
all this flesh,
i trace time
with my fingertips.
sometimes i stay awake
and follow the lines
that tell
of history.
or i wander in
dreams
searching for colors
associated to things
forgotten.

i wonder
about your song
then
the bird falls
silent

pools of rain water
on
the field.
they reflect the
sky
and setting sun.
the pools are set ablaze;
surface to surface
crimson to violet
and then night.