Untangling

July 28, 2007 § Leave a comment

Was it for nothing in particular
or for the swollen flood of fragments
I can no longer count as memories
that love comes more easily,
and love for more things

with fewer apologies,
less camouflage,
more pungently,
a bit clumsily,

as if all this light is new.
These breezes have combed out the knots.

My heart, less tightly wound,
is warmer, fatter, noisier,
and beaming
boldly, simply,
like the sun.

May 2007

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