A generation of pinched
Fruit we
Lay still in a wickerbasket
& the childless theatre
Remains grim and nettled with
Unfamiliar voices
You stray from ample forgiveness
With waxen fugues
The martyr of unrest
Keeps to the typewriter
Imagining dramatics and
Flowery dust accumulates
over
Musings of herself
And the city that has devoured her
Beached priests who
Hear the seagull candor
Kiss windchimes idly,
Staying on a thought of expansive
Clouds with rings delicate around their patient fingers. The brass clamor of the ocean (assisted by Erroll Garner)
Creates beams of carpeted
Fantasy to the Priest. The wind tugs at his robes like an eager lover
Dementia
Of the coming Night
Makes senseless the mortal line
Of sand and branded stone
(the perpetual *** of land/
The curving sea) creates a poet
And kills a priest
Do not ease that Nordic instrument into its casing/velvet Absolutely
Conifer perfume/
quarell of the shaken gulls observed thru
A car window
& lamps cosy our continentless
Home where
Conjurations exhibit themselves
Without expectation or
Pride
(a hairnet trapped in the shower
Your sheltered ribbon hung from a treebranch)
A spherical whisper with crimson properties
Buried in the parking lot
To be experienced in Stoneness by someone else
& the dying
Retreat back to an overwhelming
Burden of self
....Crayons lacking regal touch to eroticize them!
Do wait with optimism within the jar of
A kitchenette
For you and your unmeditated softness to return here to me
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 2:56 AM UTC
A generation of pinched
Fruit we
Lay still in a wickerbasket
& the childless theatre
Remains grim and nettled with
Unfamiliar voices
You stray from ample forgiveness
With waxen fugues
The martyr of unrest
Keeps to the typewriter
Imagining dramatics and
Flowery dust accumulates
over
Musings of herself
And the city that has devoured her
Beached priests who
Hear the seagull candor
Kiss windchimes idly,
Staying on a thought of expansive
Clouds with rings delicate around their patient fingers. The brass clamor of the ocean (assisted by Erroll Garner)
Creates beams of carpeted
Fantasy to the Priest. The wind tugs at his robes like an eager lover
Dementia
Of the coming Night
Makes senseless the mortal line
Of sand and branded stone
(the perpetual *** of land/
The curving sea) creates a poet
And kills a priest
Do not ease that Nordic instrument into its casing/velvet Absolutely
Conifer perfume/
quarell of the shaken gulls observed thru
A car window
& lamps cosy our continentless
Home where
Conjurations exhibit themselves
Without expectation or
Pride
(a hairnet trapped in the shower
Your sheltered ribbon hung from a treebranch)
A spherical whisper with crimson properties
Buried in the parking lot
To be experienced in Stoneness by someone else
& the dying
Retreat back to an overwhelming
Burden of self
....Crayons lacking regal touch to eroticize them!
Do wait with optimism within the jar of
A kitchenette
For you and your unmeditated softness to return here to me
Written Nov 2016
