I am,
yet one never complete for
much ado has been said
when the span of the world
ends when the sky-reaching flowers
plummet inward, breaking shoals
of fettered clouds dusting themselves
of the ether.
I am
never a lie nor the truth beset
by trivial happenstances; there is always
a sound heard from a body's eventual fall
into sleep's threshold—
the dreams are all imagined realness
and tomorrow detests, all the
muses by the river gone harmoniously
escaping the hands of standstill time.
oh, let red
or blue define the Sun and moon,
lunar harlequin bleeding white
all the gemini! pounded against the harsh blackening wall of eyes sealed shut
and far away, i go, to where no sound
lengthens, flames to reach with
its flumine hands a furtive life congealed,
singing where no hymn shatters,
returning to the Earth with words—
a made man.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
I am,
yet one never complete for
much ado has been said
when the span of the world
ends when the sky-reaching flowers
plummet inward, breaking shoals
of fettered clouds dusting themselves
of the ether.
I am
never a lie nor the truth beset
by trivial happenstances; there is always
a sound heard from a body's eventual fall
into sleep's threshold—
the dreams are all imagined realness
and tomorrow detests, all the
muses by the river gone harmoniously
escaping the hands of standstill time.
oh, let red
or blue define the Sun and moon,
lunar harlequin bleeding white
all the gemini! pounded against the harsh blackening wall of eyes sealed shut
and far away, i go, to where no sound
lengthens, flames to reach with
its flumine hands a furtive life congealed,
singing where no hymn shatters,
returning to the Earth with words—
a made man.
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