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tricia-lambertPoems
“The sound that pours from the fingertips awakens clouds of cells far inside the body” Robert Bly 1926- You could say that the sound that tips deep cells are waking heralds with bugles divine revolution You could say that the sound that echoes from spirals gossamers emeralds’ scintillant light You could say that the sound that squishes from mangoes is luscious and opulent tripping with pearls You could say that the sound that slumbers in harp strings howls round the polar bear’s tumaceous couch You could say that the sound that tremors from tadpoles triggers eruptions of undersea mountains You could say that the sound that sits on the windowsill on Arcturus flickers as icicle fire You could say that the sound that bounces off drumskins loosens the shackles of acuate cacti You could say that the sound that shivers off rainbows silkens red poppies at sunstrike unpacking You could say that the sound that rumbles round moonrocks passes on purple to stillness of shadows You could say that the sound that echoes cicadas crackles through canyons of memory rising You could say that the sound that gallops through nightmares shrinks in the face of the falcons glissade You could say that the sound that is diatomaceous tangles up synapses sparking at random You could say that the sound of deep cells awakening &n
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Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 4:57 AM UTC
EVOCATION
“The sound that pours from the fingertips awakens clouds of cells far inside the body” Robert Bly 1926- You could say that the sound that tips deep cells are waking heralds with bugles divine revolution You could say that the sound that echoes from spirals gossamers emeralds’ scintillant light You could say that the sound that squishes from mangoes is luscious and opulent tripping with pearls You could say that the sound that slumbers in harp strings howls round the polar bear’s tumaceous couch You could say that the sound that tremors from tadpoles triggers eruptions of undersea mountains You could say that the sound that sits on the windowsill on Arcturus flickers as icicle fire You could say that the sound that bounces off drumskins loosens the shackles of acuate cacti You could say that the sound that shivers off rainbows silkens red poppies at sunstrike unpacking You could say that the sound that rumbles round moonrocks passes on purple to stillness of shadows You could say that the sound that echoes cicadas crackles through canyons of memory rising You could say that the sound that gallops through nightmares shrinks in the face of the falcons glissade You could say that the sound that is diatomaceous tangles up synapses sparking at random You could say that the sound of deep cells awakening &n
Written by
tricia-lambert
New Zealander
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 4:57 AM UTC
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