.
Give me something I can use,
some radiant blues and a matching
breeze, something besides this
river of bones, word stones
longing for sharper teeth.
Save me from these distant shallows,
the mask that swallows up
the rest of what I am; the cold
collapse of lung and pause
and breath, the death
of a vivid life inhaled from
all sides. Let me slide along
this sacred moon
-spilled track, get back to an
emerging sky, full reeled and
revealed by greater gifts than mine.
.
wordled
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
Gimme gimme. Glad to read ghizmo again
This is a sad one. “Give me something I can use” – that’s hard, at certain times of life. Love is the only thing with permanent currency. And that can be hard to see / find in difficult situations. In the end it’s true that nature soothes.
So good to have you back!
“a matching
breeze, something besides this
river of bones”
This makes me think of burning the remnants of something … your identity, a memory, pain … so that you can fully start over … with that breeze. A spiritual rebirth, maybe.
How well this piece reads especially the internal rhymes in the work.