Open your gate for me.
I’ve brought my baskets.
I see your tingling feathers,
feel the buzz of your grip,
offering melons and trophies.
I don’t deserve your soft swings,
you, desperate to see me.
Open your gate for me.
Watch me drift in oils,
down your onyx and ash,
that smooth front that
makes my nose rest deeply,
and sinking clenches of your toes
shooting me through canals of honey,
while floating with purple bicycles,
holding on to your kite,
your most valued treasure,
watching you eat cookies
that change contours
with light from eyes you use
to make me soar
with your heart into hidden
gloves for carrying suitcases
for gods who create purest joy.
Open your gate for me.
Play with me and soothe me.
stillfugue 
#1 by siubhan on March 2, 2011 - 9:49 am
Carl,
There is indeed a soothing beauty to this that gets me from the very first lines. Something child-like and reassuring in your imagery. I really like it.
#2 by Carl on March 2, 2011 - 10:06 pm
Thank you for your kind comments! It means a great deal to me.
#3 by Richard Holt on March 2, 2011 - 3:01 pm
There’s a sense of the value of the everyday in this – kites and cookies and purple bicycles. I’ve had difficulty commenting on your work, only because it can be such an outpouring. But it’s always powerful and comes with potent insights. This one spoke to my own mundane suburban sanity (which has its moments!)
#4 by Carl on March 2, 2011 - 10:09 pm
Richard, You are so generous with your comment. I appreciate what you’ve said. I believe that even the surrealists land in the suburbs sometimes. And that is where I am hiding. “Surrealist in the Suburbs,” perhaps a nice topic for a new poem.
#5 by Steve Isaak on March 2, 2011 - 3:53 pm
Great flow, great imagery.
#6 by Carl on March 2, 2011 - 10:11 pm
Thank you, Steve.
#7 by Evelyn on March 2, 2011 - 8:08 pm
“I don’t deserve your soft swings,
you, desperate to see me.”
sigh. this is sweet.
very charming.
#8 by Carl on March 2, 2011 - 10:11 pm
Ah, if I can do charming, I am flying First Class! Thank you, my friend!