Cedar

well, if I had words at all, they are swollen
swollen thick on my tongue, beating a drum
can you hear this, the rhythm of someone
rhythm of someone who swallowed the sun

midmorning light breaks through grey and through cedar
we stand dumb and mute, just white throats and bare need
if I had words at all they are swollen:
quivering wings, beneath my breastbone

cantilever cavalier
wine, brine, or birch beer
cup your hands like the conch to your ear
sunsets behind your hair
well, it's the motor of the city that you hear
and it's the dark, lonely delaware
all bodies of water are lonely at night
no sun to drag the ripples
with crooked, hooked fingers of light

my story is for thee and the glory of bodies
made up of water, carbon, and light
trowel sinks into the earth with resistance
and a birch pledged birth
in silver and white

like the french hook slid into the earlobe
your last look found a spot and went clean through
found avenue, via some old wound
i favored it, though it healed true

sallow swallow, hallowed or hollow
bird of longing, bound to the night
bound to this night, bound to the soaring
soaring, searing, sightless flight

please pluck from my window this restless dream sweating
epic heart tales that end in forgetting
carry this desire someplace higher
and burn, please burn, please burn... the clouds

so many things can look like blood
old red rose petals, or tracks of mud
and so many things can feel like love
like a fire in the belfry
and the creek's all a'flood

well, if I had words at all they've gone golden
burning gold in the long hands that hold 'em
long hands have thrown these drops gone all diamond
right at my windshield but somehow I'm not scared

for if this is to be my last drive home
then a low-slung glow's not the worst way to go
and if the sun is my home, then the road is a koan
where the words never mattered... only the tone