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john-hayesPoems
I wrestle with her song like a reservoir, since it mocks the veritable sea. Its mysteries, unconceived, she’s robbed of their virginity. I flew to a galaxy near the beginning, and she also found me there beneath the surface, under the deep air. Waiting before an impenetrable secret I couldn’t escape her song, her Siren song. Her sweet words enveloped and bound, like chords wrapped around me to tame and name. An infinite darkness of mind vanished wordless into the unknowing womb of creation. And I, banished to an inner wasteland, heard a voice of genius singing a base rhythm to her song. It was plain and blue. The words were formless but rose from the bottom of the world. I am enchanted by an old song and an older place, seeming enemies. Whether by seduction or will for words I will be undone. I must have both or be without my song.
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Jan 1, 2021
Jan 1, 2021 at 11:22 AM UTC
A Variation on Wallace Stevens’ “The Idea of Order at Key West”
I wrestle with her song like a reservoir, since it mocks the veritable sea. Its mysteries, unconceived, she’s robbed of their virginity. I flew to a galaxy near the beginning, and she also found me there beneath the surface, under the deep air. Waiting before an impenetrable secret I couldn’t escape her song, her Siren song. Her sweet words enveloped and bound, like chords wrapped around me to tame and name. An infinite darkness of mind vanished wordless into the unknowing womb of creation. And I, banished to an inner wasteland, heard a voice of genius singing a base rhythm to her song. It was plain and blue. The words were formless but rose from the bottom of the world. I am enchanted by an old song and an older place, seeming enemies. Whether by seduction or will for words I will be undone. I must have both or be without my song.
Written by
john-hayes
78/M/Pittsburgh, PA
Jan 1, 2021
Jan 1, 2021 at 11:22 AM UTC
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