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Sep 2012
the grass, leaning in the south wind , seeming
              as if emeralds,   had sent tendrils up
              to suckle at the yellow breast, now,   high above     inflamed....
              over soft new
              grass  
            
              like
              strands of green gemstone,
              as delicate as humming-bird tongues
              teasing nectar
              from a titan,
              in the sky
                        
              triumphant in the void,

              a golden bead in the baffling blue !

              cattails, curling in sway...and two brown eyes bob upon the surface
                          of a myriad fertilities.
              as if
                        nature itself had known, one day
                       a poet would come ~
              to roam the rambling renascence of these remote ramparts
                     in awesome humility ~ and so prepared
              a path afflux
                that ambled near

              and yes !

              an
                        anonymous nomad
              with nicotine skin and a scabbard of scandalous quills
              would indeed
              stumble in      as if returning home
              to a mansion restored to glory
              and seraphic randomness....
              a place
              that in youth, sustained a quiet, soulful troubadour
              by gospels of granite and grain,  grass finch
              and faun - ennobling an oracle ... but now
              enticed a scholar  from his cot
              to jot ephemera
              of outlasting spark
              before dark-fall

        
              and so... there

              amid all allurement   and soft machines

              a word-smith gathered
              poesy and prose.
            
              muse-driven
              this one served
              an invisible
              sovereign
            
              one  

              of unsurpassed virility
              who charms       kaleidoscopes
              with  offhand sketches    
              rescued
              from
              a landfill
            
              a basket weaver,  
              that unravels to
              achieve pure
              forms
            
              a wineskin was decanted in dianthus and hollies -
              as ampules of anagrams
              were sold unscrambled, to dyslexics
              without hope
            
              a falcon   frolicked above the lowborn lilies...  
            
              with eyes  
              too keen
              to see a
              blur
              as the hand
              of god
            
              or a vole
            
              as a lifeline
              on his
              palm.
some aesthetic modifications and heartfelt snipping. like a bonsai. i like it better.
Third Eye Candy
Written by
Third Eye Candy  M/USA
(M/USA)   
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