"halations" poems
Lucent gold halations that seer in sight,
flesh akin to plush saline gelatin,
kingfishers song, mellifluent as streams,
drones that palpitate in the heart and nag the mind,
hiding your enmity and silent screams.
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 4:28 AM UTC
Sediment slabs purl down soft rock,
parched charcoal lathers soot - scintillate,
smothered form in slate deluge,
where the sun can take refuge,
saturnine in the hiemal shift of the alcove,
and nebulous spume caroms - gaseous halations ,
off scalding waters, sweet smoke arise,
tenuous strings of light gossamer in the eyes ,
meshed scales loll down,
corona tendrils stream over sunken psilocybe,
equilibrium sun-warped - flares effulgent,
seeping into trails of salt-lacerated skin,
wax beads singeing skin - summer hit of apocalypse fever
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 4:27 AM UTC
I.
I once asked about halations, and wondered what they were;
if they did at all exist, for once.
How they'd appear only in blurry and unfocused pictures,
or perhaps at times, still and expectant on the verge of our tears?
Now the question:
"What makes a halation?" And if we're thinking of the same thing.
II.
So I then wrote about halations, and tried to make (believe) sense—
of what they were (not) portraying.
I spoke of their lucidity amongst all others,
of their ever-curious charm,
and of their picturesque whims—
yet denied them a photograph, and opt for another.
Hence was said:
"More than a picture: a metaphor."
In other words: are we thinking of the same thing?
III.
With it, I'll once again talk about halations, and wonder where they are;
wonder when they might appear.
If the lights still scatter after—
and on the far side: if they would cast the same fair shades then.
Here I quote:
"For every shot taken is merely a remnant of the most beautiful."
I will speak of the light and without doubt—
be thinking of a different someone.
Mar 8, 2020
Mar 8, 2020 at 4:26 PM UTC