I don't write, I paint myself blind with words...diogenes herded...ignorance...gilded cages...filling up on beauty unleashed...free will's maddening fractures...eyes that need to smell to see...
January 25, 2012
poem 26 of a poem a day for 2012
a Winter vine-trembled satiro cadenza
all my seas
have always roared
in a somewhat
haphazard sequence
for her
bellowing lunatic whispers
in some odd-tongued instrumentals
each slurried mandala
each sand drawn down
each hand she hones
each curl-horned sound
of her pulling me into
each high-hat crash of her velvet shudders
each lash of her subtle masses
each beauty that lasts
each chaos that blasts
into her blooms
finger-picking past me
clasping the taut string rooms
I've kept waiting, just to see me
fill-sipping in her coalesce again
everything turns to wine
when my soles move coal
to diamond good and I am
patient enough to wade
past the could nots and
into what tides knot and
into what I pay for
with oceans of afterbirth
and the value of
how luscious
any lasting note
of her can be
swirling in every
held sin I see
so that the wind
can taste me
when I exhale
just how assuredly
she breathes me
into her releases
as every poem
is another need
that ceases
EJR (c)
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Ooh, this is good!
ReplyDelete"pulling me into
each high-hat crash of her velvet shudders"
"just how assuredly
she breathes me
into her releases"