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
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.