November 9, 2013

between warranted and dreaming...

‘Puck’ by Joshua Reynolds c1789
a poet’s perimeter notes in a constancy opera known as modernity and its attendant war-borgs

the introduction music
is tender little jaunts
rusted butterfly wings
ringing across
spent shell wastelands
I trample over their echoes
their faint crystal courage
latticed as regards
atop this most recent
November landscape

I am scent blind sometimes
I am a naked ape muscaria
binding hair mask scarier
imagining vestige unknowns
remembering reason is cloned
kept jewel boxed inside us
somewhere hiding our divinity
our knees to mud bent palmed
cupped kissing the ground first
rise theory practiced
as an art
of dedications
and invocations
our humanity
between wounded
and wondering
if this voice
we hear
is an answer

we call it religion
the pious parlance
where we’ve grown
into hording hordes
of submitted follicles
sea grass seekers
saying nothing
swaying in pattern chaos
the cloaks here
are sewn seams
double-triple stitched
mind and body
intellect, heart and soul
the goal here is
a switch gate immutability

though only in the fine print
will you find such instruction
and or purpose for the war machine
we ride the white noise as a horse
constantly praying ritualized
great and small lies for an end
or at least a means to know
a moment can be captured
into a memory where love lives
without pause, past
here and now


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