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Holy in the Infinite

Month

September 2014

The Age of Sail

The Age of Sail (8.25.14)

From Keystone to Coupeville in the morning

The dampness
of this forest
that clings to my skin
Reminds me of the
salt sprays
in the mornings we spent
lingering
in your boat
as the wind sailed us
to places undiscovered

You undressed me
leaving me bare
as the pines
above us
And you lay me down
on the floor of your kitchen
knotted
as the logs that crack
in the fire

My spine unfurling
as smoke from your chimney.
You teach me ways
I’ve never known
of apple orchards
long abandoned
with high grasses
and heavy trees
and the earth soft
beneath my muddy boots
and I feel ancient
and brand new
in these moments,
lush and mysterious,
wooded and heavy blanketed

This place
And your heart
Older than anything I’ve ever known
before

Heart beats
Drum beats
on this cool ancient land
The hearth still warm
The earth still cool
and your skin

Aching and soaring
as the lone call of the gull
Blessed by eagles here
And spirits of wolves

Our waves
As tempest and timid
As the flow of the tides
That brought me here
to you.

Brumous

Brumous (8.23.14) – Brenden’s Poem

I woke
to the sky low
slate
brumous
august and venerable
the trees
still
as if to spite the end of summer
in a bed foreign
with unfamiliar sheets
half expecting you
be there next to me
still
dozing quietly
but I was alone

you crept in quietly
laid down beside me
to steal the trouble,
leaving my days
whispering and
halcyon

steeped in afternoon
sunlight

changing my heart
to the slower rhythms
of sweet tea
and of porch swings
of peach trees
and those golden oak leaves
in lightning storms
in the
deep deep south

Used to Be

Used To Be (5.19.14)

There’s a girl that used to be
where I stand now
Oh, how I wish you could
have known her

The way she stood
drenched in rain
above the trains at midnight
balancing precarious
between her choices
letting one heel slip
to help make up her mind

You could never know
the things that changed her
The sleepy island towns
with the deserted streets
in winter

Perhaps
you had the chance to find
how wildly her heart beat
beneath the palm of your hand

And how the stillness
seemed so unnatural
when she slept
As if she were slipping away
dying in the night

The way the breeze moved
through her hair
on the beach at sunset
turning her whole face to gold

There’s a girl that used to be
where I stand now
Oh, how I wish you could
have known her

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