Jazz: Rhapsody in You (Pt. 17) — I’ve Grown Accustomed To Your Face

where
heaven
meets Mother Earth, i am witness
to the cosmology
of her countenance

cohabiting wrinkles
of sun on the horizon. as though
for the first time with every glimpse
she pours emotion into measures
of life distilled

in her to be continued
euphony of song that invites
the world & i to inhale the chorus
of singing winds
& crying beasts

in probably
the closest thing
to a formal introduction
of vers libre
we shall see

…&

at your altar, as ars
poetica muses
the melange of your
flowering amor
preening & careening
through the muted
shadows of a melancholy
sun, i revisit vistas
of ventures into the river
of remembrance
where love will hopefully
find me again
living on limbs of the poet tree
reflecting its roots
even in its leaves’ absence

…&
though
mama
always said
not to look into
the eyes of the sun, i can’t help

but
stand
staring
at nuances
of your face contoured
to the shadows of sunshowers

that
fill
your blue
enamelled
bowl of sky molded
by the ray/sings of life aglow
commingled with the summer breeze blowing over me.

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