Tom Blood

LA REATA


Portland, Oregon

Tom Blood was born in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, 1973. He lives in
Portland, Oregon. These poems were taken from his
book, The Sky Position, published by Marriage Records

www.marriagerecs.com

stray lightning


this is where we are as it is what we wait for in absence
the sun song to us anymore
the temple eye pulls the moon from the earth’s center
our lives passed around waiting for others
in bread and any other kind of thing is played off, death
for all this and its escape to the passing sun I will be
until sitting here and I see you in
along the sea your form no more than that the mountains
watching a close one’s body circle the luggage carousel
as a time peeled off its narrative like aluminium siding
all along i assume it knows its reason the mountain behaves
if it was a river, it would be calm in its peace away
before it is discovered as our carport in the folded air
in the place where it is all after process, the chairs and fire done
we have had no room on earth, save the half day in the car
and we now require a dandelion inside of the gladiator to be

Tom Blood The Sky Position

what will they make of us


when we are rolled from under the coat of heaven
at the mall display bio-sphere experience chamber

our season is the way shared
we fly down released to a forest demonstratable
over white fires set to white islands
all of this all yet to be ghosts of vultures
we will slow the winter in the cloth
there must be circumstance instance as night hands
the starting point to have been sky among skies
right after the ba-zowwy

that what finally you without it being experienced by you
who should not have gotten into the fight at the ice rink over it

the salmon shakes his wings


bird died and then made it a fire
feathers more like cloth
and i shall be beat down into dust streets
cotton and continuous mountain form
the lake the salmon and creeks

then in entrances bent back
until we are all in a meeting
the shore, the sea and search light
and either time falls off or we start to believe in reincarnation
in winter
saying the ash of the bird is glass of our hands

could we set robots to unbend these doorways
as rabbits arms are doors to rabbit territory
and the seen for us doors to unbelief

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