September 17, 2014

vim and vigor...

photo by EJR ©


satyr masquerade attired

inquiring an invitation
all pimped out trying
to look buying
without dying
of course before dancing
I would not want to be
looking for another soul
steps away from
the entrance hall
to Persephone’s ball
and her underworld heaven

she has whimsical powers
ways to bleed you unseen
she steals color slow enough
to watch you smile
when she strides by with what
used to paint your flesh, vibrantly
she is Autumn

I could not see her
but I certainly heard her entrances
felt her cirrus cloud trailing(s) in
her tides from sea foam little roars
her slaked and climbed hungry rivers
her valley tongued eons, shale and clay
ghost-poem-ing me
and probably you
entranced too
somewhere along
where articulation
will listen for
these things

somewhere time is
twisting orbital looping
reading me as calendrical
a slightly odd angled observation
a Schrödinger's cat seen enough
to algorithmically seek no answer
that could be construed as final

I remembered she angles her knives
plays behind the curtain charades
shadow filling her cutting sun Septembers
she tipples tickled calling
through the windows

I nose press
scent the dust
trail my concern
fingers running
against a cold afternoon
waiting on decay

the outside is
inside again
looking for me
wanting to play
for pussy and cradle
wanting me to gamble
with words
not quite impossible
c'est la vie
ready, rolling dice
betting on a corner
tuck and ride


EJR ©

No comments:

Post a Comment