the literal metaphor of being

[sweetwater]

as a branch that sways in a gentle breeze
as if it were the first experience
or a representation or metaphor
of the living moment

or in seeing it
it comes alive and it is moving

and we see that it is recreating itself
over and again
as a cycle of exchange and notice
of a living art

the poem is only living and alive
in the reading of it

where it sits dormant on a dusty shelf
until it is invoked and becomes
alive and living
in the eyes of the reader

as a branch that sways in a gentle breeze
in each moment and original experience
where each thought and idea becomes
a work of art

it's as if we were diving into a garden of corals
descending into metaphors and adjectives
deeper into the unknown
rescuing ourselves from the drab and mundane
finding something to celebrate in our existence
as waves impart the surface of a beach

and we become like the wings of desire we contain
surfacing into a blue sky
floating on the salted sea
or flying into the metaphoric heavens
in each breath we take

softly drifting back into the sea
or losing ourselves in the clouds