The Sun Is Rising

[Michael Angell]

January 2, 2015



The sun is rising and the ocean is this turning
gem shinning,
I stand in a field of deep-green grass and call
your name from memory,
A great-horned owl glides from one oak-memory-
branch to another, then across a fresh water inlet
to finally settle within a high cliff-wall-crevice,
Shadows whisper sleep,
I hear the wind in the hair of the Dead,
I see myself closing my own eyes,
emerald lanterns dreaming of winged matches,
un-distressed damsels and towers that kneel to
the ground when their contents want to run free.

A black-winged white camel is playing in the
fields of Eden with giraffes that glow in the dark,
Mars is alive with red tints of Scotch plaid,
Something stirs in the imagination of Genghis as he
reaches for the ruby cage of cooing jade doves,

Love stretches out,
It’s a jaguar today,
It’ll be a deer tonight,
Sensing its own prior presence before sundown,

Time slows down when it’s hurried,
An Atlas-moth purchases a motel-chain and offers
a free place to hang if you’re a caterpillar in need,

One day you’ll wake up with copious amounts of
silk coming out of every orifice and understand
immediately that this is the essence of having had
such unwavering, strong opinions and
expectations of others,
That it was all just really about confessing to
this day, when Time comes to place a cover
over the sun so to infuse it with the warmth
that’ll keep you safe till your wings come.