Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2017
Something viscous and of the Earth

rampant hydraulic and geometric

where...

ever the green neddles empire

cupped hand of salt and clay

where red is skin unwashed

where smoothed stones

come under scrutiny

of rainfall

burnished by atmos

tasting of remnant iron

back of the mouth adrenaline

fear where choking lives

beguiled feints of the (nearly)

..the almost

..the always

just out of reach

seductive...

by satiated tones hither

yet kissed to life abrupt

sputtered out from shoals

soft guarded places

padded in the low end

theory spun cobweb

tied by philosophy of moss

long stretched wisps of time

that curl as smoke meanders

to drink in the momentary

nooks where God is salve

woven to worship pause

tangled and braided just so…

to hug in the splendors

a ram with horns wide like horizons

and spirals under darkened eye

on recoil, on tiptoes

that beckon to ride without saddle

eating ego and back peddle

whole seasons by the mouthful

each blinked snug

and overshadowed by determination

dancing as singular sensations

serenity swimming river's bend

circles slipping outward

elliptic goldfish spinning

hypnosis beneath lotus

opposite ever ends of the prism

A coy wink of rhythm

sway and schism cast

flailing from a cyclical sun

suchness dissipating

with the touch of dusk

and surrendered to fog

unveiled de ja vu to wax

to fauna melting orange in the distance

beyond moon picturesque

as a resonant echo breathing

armored against the crow’s call

feather fall looming, changeling

Sisyphean song obelisk

songs and sirens that got away

at nineteen hertz and rising

from the bottom of the arched heart

leaves falling scattered, witnessed

to swaddle as hinges the seasons

as transcendence including

wreck's collection magic chasm

rising and riding a tidal twist

we are each and all the alchemists

that decide the sacred

feinting flourishes we entertain

where nostalgia shades it's crispness

where hope holds hands with memory

to sip the nectar from the nightly charades

in the details that kiss the bottom lips
TS Garrett
Written by
TS Garrett  36/M/Fayetteville, AR
(36/M/Fayetteville, AR)   
342
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems