autotelic, autistic, assonance-hole©.

Flushing Artemis

I am a great, gamboling mess
with my eager lunges that bowl over
with my squirmy puppy-dog enthusiasm
too busy trying to find out who you are
to wait for an invitation to explore
I roar up like equinox kindling
all fire and frenzy; cinders, sparks, and smokey insistence
fed upon the smallest tinder of presence
liming you in the ash of curiosity
not noticing that I singe or scorch
I want to pierce you like an arrow
find the muscle, the sinew, the marrow
never to wound, only to discover
for all the analogy often escapes me;
for all that puncture wounds are far from enjoyable
The phrase, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
a recurrent and rushed refrain
often given to the back, nearing horizon
slipping over like sunset, sudden disappearance
witnessed only by peaceful moon
Forgive me embullient, excited life
carelessness caused by conditions that
too often I am unable to forestall or deny
it’s not that you must allow me entrance
it’s only that I keep forgetting to knock
I see you there, so shiny with life
looking like welcome; a red sign through glass that reads “Open”
forever forgetful, I see no difference between houses and stores
they all hold the same treasure; new and unknown and beautiful
bovine before a china shop, I feel compelled
Sunnily certain that good intentions
are the superglue of life;
able to repair clumsy ethusiasm
capable of sealing arrows of excitement, loosed
congealing the embarrassment of unintended blood
Shyly, with the bow gripped behind my back
unknocked, loose strung, and blushing for its presence
kicking clods of dirt in a standing run
working to halt the headlong rush
long enough to say, “Hi there. Mind if I come in?”