Countenance

I know what you look like,

I know all the ways 

that your cruel/kind lips

can curl and where

your skin puckers

and where it is smooth

you don’t need to tell me

of how the spirit within

transforms the flesh

I have learned that from

the inside out.

You don’t let me recount to you

except in poetry

but I have tried many

combinations of delight 

to come home to the

truth of myself 

imperfect, yes

flawed, yes

but firmly anchored 

to the bedrock of

my plane of visions 

looking out 

to the horizon

to where the sky 

is teaming with souls.

Won’t you furl those 

extraordinary wings

in the occasional visit

whenever your obligations

are not too pressing 

and kick back 

on a park bench

I’m sure we haven’t discussed 

German philosophers yet

or the construction of ships 

so I don’t mind 

if it snows a little

if the fire of the intellect

burns I think it can 

keep one of those 

metal trash barrels going

for a few nights.