My heart is an arrow loosed
across the bleeding stern of history,
a suspension of deeds and days,
egg and oil livid,
a temporary flavor
aimed to amalgamate
yesterday and tomorrow,
stitching tight the corridors
the labyrinth the color spectrum
makes of elemental resonant states.
A flower falls, too ill to beckon
bird, bat, or bee.
So beauty is lost,
conjecture of false pheromones and
ultraviolet advertisement.
Faith that the alchemy of
blood and breath
are always unbound from the arcane
texts and the cuneiform laws,
alive even now
within that froth of neurons and
clotted capillaries, the message transmitted
lingering between your tongue and tooth,
the residual wisdom of
some splendid kiss.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
simmer
The hours drag and drawl, the vision blurs and fades. The world is more at once, this flight of wing and flower, this litany of sudden silk ...
-
The season settles again on the unseasonable, my bones ring with the resonant chill, something’s always missing after a death. The hard shif...
-
So it is the scintillance of wind and leaf, abundant boughs swaying in the long last light as the sun sets off and the world falls away. So ...
-
There’s not much to do once the sinking sets in, once you feel the collapse throughout the collateral, the drag of the earth’s core gripping...
No comments:
Post a Comment