"daedal" poems
Cardinal sun rose
blooming as the
budding flower.
Buddha chants in the
chimes of birds
ethereal caught in gradual hot wind,
Darjeeling tea steam rises on tabletop my
mind is waking over Indonesian morning.
Foreign babel as hours draw even
cacophony of hurricane horns
the Denpasar traffic drumming
chorus midst markets where
radio emitting Li Zengguang
dizi dizzily prancing into the
assortments of spice and coiling fabrics
patterns potent azure and golden
royalty brass clatter caged noise
boiling *** cries the Orient!
Overgrowth spots the charring temples
in majesty and abundance cradling the narrow
Balinese streets while tropic palm
and orchid spring swells the soils.
Ardent sun sheaths eastern archipelagos,
religious offerings canvas sidewalks
incense burning in overwhelming
bouquets of efflorescence smelling
daedal tapestries within the paradise.
Sun goes on setting the jewel easing
underneath the horizon,
butterflies sway in rest
hearts on fire
the ceremonies have finished.
Thunder shrieks against the sea
torrential rain firing on villa ceilings.
My eyes set to sleep
consciousness transitioning
between two dreams.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 8:48 PM UTC
Unfolding into itself, inviolable
in prosaic self-penetration,
a boundless repertoire
of shape yearns forth surreptitiously
from inscrutable amniotes to claim
time as its own:
Here a thicket
of sycamores, there a baldaquin
of pinnate branches, yonder
a periphery of marigolds, below
a cacophony of hyraxes, above
the corpuscle of a lynx, the mid-flight
jink of a darting swift and moribund
crawl of a mollusk;
Hymenoptera coaxing
their haploid broods into teeming
life as a cell of the swarm
and viviparous apes cajoling
suckling chimerae at the fathomless
fountainhead of a rosy breast;
Higher still,
Cirrus cephalopods traversing
the trench of sky, dandelions
hitch-hiking the drift of a barren plains'
wavering hum on cockchafers'
forewings and a turbine's
bombinating pulse, the chattering
of roots ravenous for depth --
Jittering bangtails the hallowed echoes
of lascivious manes --
inchoate sprout-hood the daedal
nonage of towering evergreens --
the plaintive shrift of elegiac
redbreasts a goad to silent elation --
A likeness unlike
(vocabularies of vertiginous blinds)
(the eyes of ignorance closing)
(the mouth of the mystery)
that spurns the truth of tongues
is nature naturing.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 6:06 PM UTC
As the murk
in the daedal
sky endured
and the
finespun
brume upon
the headland
peaks wound
all around
in a
helicoid
shape,
the fluttering
winds carried
aloft
a bouquet
of ions
that were
immured,
but still
danced about
in an undulating
figure of eight;
and when the
distent distant
cloud could
no longer
wait,
it's rain
fell upon
my
wilted form
so desolate.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 4:43 PM UTC
Your heart is a daedal
You feel no worth in skin and bone
Your fingernails have carved your name
Into your headstone
As we sat in the shadows
Hand in hand, we walked the maze
Though my eyes had not adjusted,
This is where you spent your days.
So you knew every path and problem there,
With an intimacy I could not tell.
You led me through, though solemn,
Explaining every step as well.
Then one of your demons grabbed you,
As we reached the apogee.
You cried, and though it was darker still,
I could suddenly see.
I saw every tunnel differently
Than I had before,
And I realized why when you left the maze
your skin was always sore.
So I tried to take your demons
But as I tried, your skin would split.
And I realized your demons are part of you
As you are part of it.
And I feel I should be your deliverer,
But I don't know what to do.
How can I defeat your darkness
When your darkness is part of you?
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
O Thou whose angel is in the holy place
Of human souls dwells there for a space.
Which from that quarter once conveyed,
To be to deep daedal daytime displayed,
Doth be lost, vanish, and leave behind
Mere barren and void of ****** mind,
Which froward urge doth seek in vain
With random desires to furnish again!
O Thou that in our torn rib cage shrine
Dost dwell desolate, obscure, but divine!
I thought to murmur, I resolved to say,
"The beacon is here, witness the way."
The cry was thus, and thus the Word,
And thus I saw, and aye! Thus I heard.
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 9:45 PM UTC
My day soaring place . . .
Too much time spent smoldering,
. . . She soothed morning sun.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 12:31 AM UTC