"midair" poems
Touch it: it won't shrink like an eyeball,
This egg-shaped bailiwick, clear as a tear.
Here's yesterday, last year ---
Palm-spear and lily distinct as flora in the vast
Windless threadwork of a tapestry.
Flick the glass with your fingernail:
It will ping like a Chinese chime in the slightest air stir
Though nobody in there looks up or bothers to answer.
The inhabitants are light as cork,
Every one of them permanently busy.
At their feet, the sea waves bow in single file.
Never trespassing in bad temper:
Stalling in midair,
Short-reined, pawing like paradeground horses.
Overhead, the clouds sit tasseled and fancy
As Victorian cushions. This family
Of valentine faces might please a collector:
They ring true, like good china.
Elsewhere the landscape is more frank.
The light falls without letup, blindingly.
A woman is dragging her shadow in a circle
About a bald hospital saucer.
It resembles the moon, or a sheet of blank paper
And appears to have suffered a sort of private blitzkrieg.
She lives quietly
With no attachments, like a foetus in a bottle,
The obsolete house, the sea, flattened to a picture
She has one too many dimensions to enter.
Grief and anger, exorcised,
Leave her alone now.
The future is a grey seagull
Tattling in its cat-voice of departure.
Age and terror, like nurses, attend her,
And a drowned man, complaining of the great cold,
Crawls up out of the sea.
41.9k
PROLOGUE
The Flame, aflicker, licks and flays,
illuming evening’s negligees
With braided curls she swirls and sways,
and flits and floats in light ballets
APOLOGUE
A Flame, to conquer creeping fog,
flew dancing towards a random log
Her flight perplexed a leery frog
beside a silent somber bog
The Flame, a ripple, all alone
alit on leaves where birds had flown
The aching twigs began to moan
A rising breeze began to groan
The Flame arrayed an ancient oak
with torrid tongues and veils of smoke
A ****** bailed, the dam had broke
The leery frog soon ceased to croak
The Flame uncoiled and lashed midair,
consuming crowns with utmost care
A crazed coyote fled her lair,
left in the lurch bewildered bear
The Flame, unfurled, went wild and grew,
enkindled cats and caribou
Remaining... not a residue,
as reeking vapors bade adieu
The Flame revealed her strength unshackled
Flora, fauna crisped and crackled
Fire Witches clucked and cackled
One more forest stripped, then hackled
EPILOGUE
The arsonists were well aware
the Flame would travel everywhere
The weirs are gone, the land is bare,
and soon you’ll find a city there
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 5:15 AM UTC
We're in the sun and I'm moving from your mouth
to your jeans, we're watching the stars and we're moving
We're going down the green boulevard and we're cruising
you speak Romanian, I speak you, we're going to far
and moving to the beat as one and the wind blows the hair
in my face and I got news for you, I can see you just clearly
as I could before, carefully, barely hanging on and catching movies
I can't keep away from your kiss, back and forth want to feel
the rest of you and all of you can't wait to catch you all alone
we're in the sun and I'm moving from your mouth
to the hole in your heart, tell me how you feel and who you are
you speak barely, your rhythmic breaths tell me all I need to know
waste the day and spend all the time in your pockets, all alone
floating around your head and hanging midair in your palms like
a red balloon
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 9:28 AM UTC
Like flipped coin midair
Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle
Two ends of a spectrum, Möbius strip
In a room together,
Maxwell’s demon, revolving door
Cancer and chemo
Like life and death
Only one can be
The next is inevitable
Like an election
Only one figurehead may speak for a governing body
Like the seasons
Change is expected
Like a cat left to its own devices
Guaranteed to scare itself after a given time
Man tries to conquer for comforts sake
Mercurial reactions
Like elements under catalyst
Electron orbitals
Exchange positive core
Theory of relativity
A choice of determining
Accuracy of position or velocity
Hermes, deity of mine
Masculine and feminine
Ruler of I
Relieve the war of the immortal twins
Gemini
Battling my heart and mind
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 6:06 PM UTC
Death doesn't discriminate
Quite frankly, He doesn't care
Once He's out of the barrel
Whizzing through midair.
Gay, straight, Lesbian or Bi
You have no control if you die.
But the finger that pulled the trigger
Now that's a different story.
But motives mean nothing to the family in mourning
This morning.
There's nothing you could say
or explain away that would bring comfort today.
If you told them it was religion or a hate crime
that doesn't give them any more time.
And it's the outpouring of speechless faces
Awestruck gazes
That should shake us awake
in every state from our state of denial.
These cold steel devices have become our vices
becoming our own rod of judgement in bringing "justice".
A disagreement in lifestyle does not warrant a life.
If you feel offended, just turn the other cheek
And prevent tears from streaming down cheeks.
Death might not discriminate, but those who discriminate bring death.
Whether it's in the form of a gun
Or a loved one being shunned.
Life is precious and sacred
And if someone has it, you shouldn't take it.
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC
I wear shadows like a cloak, weighing heavy on my shoulders
Mysterious sounds bid me up to dance
The fireplace is lit to keep my corpse warm
Silent whispers, lights that flicker, this is the darkest hour
I see myself from deep within
Trough chest and not trough eyes
Smiles have faded, my heartbeat rests
This is the time when day becomes night
I swim in the sensation I borrowed from yesterday
I sleep midair, creatures crawling, fighting for my attention
They put on a show, like gleaming embers
Until they become the morning sun
And I keep spiraling
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 7:46 PM UTC
I'm facing the horizon, reclining in the cool grass, staring deeply into the pink and purple sky.
It is an exemplary evening and I am enticed by its extravagance. I contemplate existence.
I contemplate all our lives:
The gnat licking sweat of my brow,
You,
Me,
That tree across the street,
Your dead friends, my ancestors, that hot Latina chick that works at Panara (not that I really eat at Panara).
The undercover cop that won't stop eyeing me.
I watch the pink fade into purple fade into nothing at all. The clouds disperse, becoming nothing more than disconnected particles of dirt and water suspended in midair, and the sun goes down.
I **** the gnat and go home.
Jun 17, 2012
Jun 17, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
11:54
A clock glares upon me like the devious desert sun.
How many times have these hands made this voyage?
The sands seem so vastly changed from yesterday
11:55
A single minute vanished in midair so soon
Did that moment matter? Did it mean more than time?
Minutes together create time but alone stand hollow
11:57
Life slips away with this departing time
Still I sit here staring at a comical clock
The unforgiving frozen mess that is my world
11:58
A heavy awareness of time voids its' truths
This clock being watched laughs in secrecy
Moments stolen; memories changed by these hands
12:00
Another day finished and again air is stale
The time has arrived to surrender again
Seconds that will never come again have passed
Minutes that never came will come again today
May 29, 2012
May 29, 2012 at 11:02 PM UTC
My back touched the fabric
of the couch
as I slouched and tilted my head.
I let my elbow fell on the armchair
as my thumb flew between my lips
and my teeth perched on its flesh.
My forefinger
ran back and forth, restlessly,
on my nose bridge
as I inhaled the details
of your head thrown backward,
your hair suspended in midair.
some strands draping down your chest,
your mouth half open,
your secret self and your entire being
all seducing my peripheral vision.
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 6:08 PM UTC
In Rome on the Campo di Fiori
Baskets of olives and lemons,
Cobbles spattered with wine
And the wreckage of flowers.
Vendors cover the trestles
With rose-pink fish;
Armfuls of dark grapes
Heaped on peach-down.
On this same square
They burned Giordano Bruno.
Henchmen kindled the pyre
Close-pressed by the mob.
Before the flames had died
The taverns were full again,
Baskets of olives and lemons
Again on the vendors' shoulders.
I thought of the Campo dei Fiori
In Warsaw by the sky-carousel
One clear spring evening
To the strains of a carnival tune.
The bright melody drowned
The salvos from the ghetto wall,
And couples were flying
High in the cloudless sky.
At times wind from the burning
Would driff dark kites along
And riders on the carousel
Caught petals in midair.
That same hot wind
Blew open the skirts of the girls
And the crowds were laughing
On that beautiful Warsaw Sunday.
Someone will read as moral
That the people of Rome or Warsaw
Haggle, laugh, make love
As they pass by martyrs' pyres.
Someone else will read
Of the passing of things human,
Of the oblivion
Born before the flames have died.
But that day I thought only
Of the loneliness of the dying,
Of how, when Giordano
Climbed to his burning
There were no words
In any human tongue
To be left for mankind,
Mankind who live on.
Already they were back at their wine
Or peddled their white starfish,
Baskets of olives and lemons
They had shouldered to the fair,
And he already distanced
As if centuries had passed
While they paused just a moment
For his flying in the fire.
Those dying here, the lonely
Forgotten by the world,
Our tongue becomes for them
The language of an ancient planet.
Until, when all is legend
And many years have passed,
On a great Campo dci Fiori
Rage will kindle at a poet's word.
3.6k
You've asked me how can I see a future when love, in all
Its numinous beauty, is waning?
I reply, the immortal stars still shine above the veil of clouds.
You say, why are the salmon swimming to their pools of origin
Only to die as they spawn? Only to die?
I tell you their love is unconditional, like mine.
You ask me did the giant sequoia know it was shelter for the burning grasses
When they walked from the seas? I reply yes they knew.
You question me about the lofty snow cranes that fly over the Himalayas
And I reply by describing
How the priestly flocks, chanting on their mission, honk—
Announcing the mantle steps to the heavens.
You inquire about the elephantine manatees gracing the shallow banks
And wonder if the sea mermaids remember their lives beyond the latitudes
Of capricorn and cancer?
Or you’ve discovered in the wind a new reasoning as to why
The talons of the paired eagles lock in midair as they court?
You want to understand the nimbus garden, ocean slate, of lake Titicaca
Where resides the Andean sea horse gliding above the clouds?
The whales that circle dance in unison collecting krill?
The noetic display of the birds of paradise, the songs of nameless creatures
Playing in the wilderness like a forgotten melody only lovers lips remember?
I want to tell you that true love knows this, that life in its
Prismatic shimmer is all the myriad colours of infinite existence wrapped
In time to the sublime structure of white and bones. I must tell you
That the flower is mighty in its opening, the humming bird is a sorcerer
Who needles ambrosia with vortex wings weaving his way to the Gods.
But I am nothing beside your disbelief which has arrived, before
I can even imagine the sweet awakening, like doom, my shell is the iridescent
Hollow of the one eyed Abalone, discarded in the deep fathoms
Of the ocean pressures.
I swim the tides as you do, investigating
The endless tendril seas,
And in my chest, during the night, I woke up empty,
The only thing treasured, a golden face
Trapped inside my dreams.
— after Neruda
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 6:59 PM UTC
If only we could fly like
those that tweet or hoot
without aid of jet or
parachute
For I sure don't like
wings that boom and roar
just so they can take off
and soar
Ah, to fly without petrol, diesel
or fuel
Oh, to halt that taloned midair
duel *
Birds they don't pollute
the air
nor need they any airline
fare
So if only I too could rise
and glide
and let the wind be my
sole guide
I'd be happy to fly all the
way to 'em' faraway stars
if I was assured I'd risk
no charring scars.
Flying without aviation
formalities
I could be sightseeing
many more cities
Ah I so wish to fly just
like a jay or jackdaw
Then I'd fly across all and
every border
For I'd know nor follow
no man-made law!
If only we needed no darned immigration pass or visa
We could have visited so many more touristy places
Say even the spectacular and popular pyramids of Giza
And we could have known different cultures and races
Ah, a stylish photo next to the leaning tower of Pisa
And return with exotica like a framed pic of the Mona Lisa
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 12:20 PM UTC
You've asked me how can I see a future when love, in all
Its numinous beauty, is waning?
I reply, the immortal stars still shine above the veil of clouds.
You say, why are the salmon swimming to their pools of origin
Only to die as they spawn? Only to die?
I tell you their love is unconditional, like mine.
You ask me did the giant sequoia know it was shelter for the burning grasses
When they walked from the seas? I reply yes they knew.
You question me about the lofty snow cranes that fly over the Himalayas
And I reply by describing
How the priestly flocks, chanting on their mission, honk—
Announcing the mantle steps to the heavens.
You inquire about the elephantine manatees gracing the shallow banks
And wonder if the sea mermaids remember their lives beyond the latitudes
Of capricorn and cancer?
Or you’ve discovered in the wind a new reasoning as to why
The talons of the paired eagles lock in midair as they court?
You want to understand the nimbus garden, ocean slate, of lake Titicaca
Where resides the Andean sea horse gliding above the clouds?
The whales that circle dance in unison collecting krill?
The noetic display of the birds of paradise, the songs of nameless creatures
Playing in the wilderness like a forgotten melody only lovers lips remember?
I want to tell you that true love knows this, that life in its
Prismatic shimmer is all the myriad colours of infinite existence wrapped
In time to the sublime structure of white and bones. I must tell you
That the flower is mighty in its opening, the humming bird is a sorcerer
Who needles ambrosia with vortex wings weaving his way to the Gods.
But I am nothing beside your disbelief which has arrived, before
I can even imagine the sweet awakening, like doom, my shell is the iridescent
Hollow of the one eyed Abalone, discarded in the deep fathoms
Of the ocean pressures.
I swim the tides as you do, investigating
The endless tendril seas,
And in my chest, during the night, I woke up empty,
The only thing treasured, a golden face
Trapped inside my dreams.
— after Neruda
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 2:57 PM UTC
Started off in the [clouds]
and after falling and crashing down,
touched the roots of a redwood.
Now with the help of giraffes
I scale it's back as I'm looking
to climb my way up the trunk.
Branch after branch,
contact causing
**** hoping no one
stops my conquest
and burns this tree to ash.
Talking to fauna,
birds chirp, to attempt
continuing this saga,
after she left I reduced to
nothing but a larva, as I now
undergo the metamorphosis,
similar to that of Kafka's.
Trauma induces this
determination, of being reunited
in clouds with her creation,
and if up there nothing for me
is waiting, then abort mission,
swing towards a new notion,
and from the the clouds
I'm perched upon, jump
and plummet into the [ocean].
25 hours pass before
the tip of the tree is reached
and as the sun rises, I realize
I'm above the horizon and
on clouds perched I instantly
recognize the eyes hidden
under eyelids.
Finally we've met again,
tragic ending as I reach for
her to grab my hand.
Unstably standing on this branch
and as she hands me hers, she
retreats and pulls back.
Slipping, she let me fall
and midair I hear my heart
crack, falling thousands of feet,
I'm thinking of the love she couldn't
keep, and before the impact a thought passes my head; so honest.
Humans like myself, too ambitious in their conquest,
meant to stay at trunk of trees, and clouds, strictly homes for a goddess.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
I watch our love go up in flames
Feel my soul catch fire too
Summer reminds of happier days
The face I once knew
Distance is dangerous wind
Fanning flames, vacant of your smile each day
Your heart so numb you cannot feel the burn
Hear it beat even miles away
Patience the quality I lack
Forget to give my feelings time
So these hasty decisions catch up
When it's too late to change my mind
In forgotten days when your heart was better
Pleasant, simple, and unaware
Friendship quietly develops rust
Photographs more than eyes can bear
Broken glass, shattered hearts
It has all lead to this dead end
Perfectly synced self-destruction
Beautifully orchestrated lies descend
Peeking through darkness, cartwheeling midair
No stars left in our sky
The night alive with melancholy
Sorrowful birdsong in gusts low and high
My heart suspended in tragic beauty
Soul dies a little more every day
Waiting for eyelids to finally open to the light
Radiating from the glow of flames guiding the way
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 6:05 AM UTC
You've asked me how can I see a future when love, in all
Its numinous beauty, is waning?
I reply, the immortal stars still shine above the veil of clouds.
You say, why are the salmon swimming to their pools of origin
Only to die as they spawn? Only to die?
I tell you their love is unconditional, like mine.
You ask me did the giant sequoia know it was shelter for the burning grasses
When they walked from the seas? I reply yes they knew.
You question me about the lofty snow cranes that fly over the Himalayas
And I reply by describing
How the priestly flocks, chanting on their mission, honk—
Announcing the mantle steps to the heavens.
You inquire about the elephantine manatees gracing the shallow banks
And wonder if the sea mermaids remember their lives beyond the latitudes
Of capricorn and cancer?
Or you’ve discovered in the wind a new reasoning as to why
The talons of the paired eagles lock in midair as they court?
You want to understand the nimbus garden, ocean slate, of lake Titicaca
Where resides the Andean sea horse gliding above the clouds?
The whales that circle dance in unison collecting krill?
The noetic display of the birds of paradise, the songs of nameless creatures
Playing in the wilderness like a forgotten melody only lovers lips remember?
I want to tell you that true love knows this, that life in its
Prismatic shimmer is all the myriad colours of infinite existence wrapped
In time to the sublime structure of white and bones. I must tell you
That the flower is mighty in its opening, the humming bird is a sorcerer
Who needles ambrosia with vortex wings weaving his way to the Gods.
But I am nothing beside your disbelief which has arrived, before
I can even imagine the sweet awakening, like doom, my shell is the iridescent
Hollow of the one eyed Abalone, discarded in the deep fathoms
Of the ocean pressures.
I swim the tides as you do, investigating
The endless tendril seas,
And in my chest, during the night, I woke up empty,
The only thing treasured, a golden face
Trapped inside my dreams.
— after Neruda
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 2:40 PM UTC
You've asked me how can I see a future when love, in all
Its numinous beauty, is waning?
I reply, the immortal stars still shine above the veil of clouds.
You say, why are the salmon swimming to their pools of origin
Only to die as they spawn? Only to die?
I tell you their love is unconditional, like mine.
You ask me did the giant sequoia know it was shelter for the burning grasses
When they walked from the seas? I reply yes they knew.
You question me about the lofty snow cranes that fly over the Himalayas
And I reply by describing
How the priestly flocks, chanting on their mission, honk—
Announcing the mantle steps to the heavens.
You inquire about the elephantine manatees gracing the shallow banks
And wonder if the sea mermaids remember their lives beyond the latitudes
Of capricorn and cancer?
Or you’ve discovered in the wind a new reasoning as to why
The talons of the paired eagles lock in midair as they court?
You want to understand the nimbus garden, ocean slate, of lake Titicaca
Where resides the Andean sea horse gliding above the clouds?
The whales that circle dance in unison collecting krill?
The noetic display of the birds of paradise, the songs of nameless creatures
Playing in the wilderness like a forgotten melody only lovers lips remember?
I want to tell you that true love knows this, that life in its
Prismatic shimmer is all the myriad colours of infinite existence wrapped
In time to the sublime structure of white and bones. I must tell you
That the flower is mighty in its opening, the humming bird is a sorcerer
Who needles ambrosia with vortex wings weaving his way to the Gods.
But I am nothing beside your disbelief which has arrived, before
I can even imagine the sweet awakening, like doom, my shell is the iridescent
Hollow of the one eyed Abalone, discarded in the deep fathoms
Of the ocean pressures.
I swim the tides as you do, investigating
The endless tendril seas,
And in my chest, during the night, I woke up empty,
The only thing treasured, a golden face
Trapped inside my dreams.
— after Neruda
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 11:48 AM UTC
It is not attention that I want
Nor attention that I crave
Disdain and pain are not to blame
For the way that I behave
I pantomime the life I want
I advertise the life I own
When inside my deep dark chamber
I find comfort being alone
By myself I still feel joyful
Reading, drinking coffee, or tea
The absence of friends, the feeling of loneliness
Had simply, never occurred to me
Instead I look forward to these solitary rituals
They come with no surprise
I admit I never foresaw
These tendencies becoming my demise
For I grow attached and bound
To my special time on my own
That it is not until I am in the company of friends
That I truly feel alone
A habit turned addiction is to blame for my disease
My loved ones on ground level as I swing from a trapeze
My loved ones all together
My trapeze floating in midair
They laugh and feel at rest
As I hang, alone, up there.
Jun 1, 2010
Jun 1, 2010 at 10:09 PM UTC
You falter,
one foot
dangling seamlessly
in midair
before
dropping;
the moment of the fall,
the transcendence of it
makes me wonder if I could go
ahead;
could I explode
into a million
glittering
pieces
and launch myself
past the stars into the
mass gyrating grave of
four million suns?
into a dark not even
light
can escape?
Could I just
suspend there,
at the edge of the
gyre,
feeling my body
lull
into
half-time.
Could I watch, then,
as the Earth spun
in real-time,
allowing me a very
modest
amount of years for
life to settle;
returning when the
time is
right.
My body,
compounding
back into solid flesh,
plunking back to Earth,
just as I had left,
a weeping puppet,
and I’d pretend
as if I’d been there
all this time.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 12:16 PM UTC
*Big Bird, a rare, fine brand
Taking off to air from land
Flapping her wings in midair
She soared, into despair.
We waited in your nest
But you vanished from the rest
Drowning hearts amid tears
Birthing panic, pain and fears.
What happened to you Big Bird?
Your voyage got so weird!
We awaited your return,
But our hopes, time has burned!
Two hundred and thirty-nine
Burning candles ceased to shine
Times like this I ask, "God WHY?"
As hearts and souls, melt and cry!*
© Raphael Uzor
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 7:43 PM UTC
Inspiration fails me,
my pen refuses to move from
its place on the page,
leaving a splotch the
size of the
thoughts I wish to write.
I wish I could fill
ten notebookes with my
sociopolitical nonsense
and whinings of every
trivial romance in my
young life.
I want to dry up pen after
pen, wake up
hungover from writing late
the night before,
cover each and every slip of
paper in alliterations
and onamonapias.
If only I could be a
real artist, one who
carries her notebook and
pen to libraries, coffee shops,
and movie theaters,
finding inspiration in ever
face and street corner.
But no.
I'm just sitting here,
pen in midair,
staring at a blank page.
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 3:59 PM UTC
Walking down the avenue,
admiring how my cigarette smoke
mingles with the snow.
Gentle wisps rising,
quiet kisses falling,
but they meet midair
to dance.
I could watch this silent beauty
for days, until
a wrinkled old man closing up shop
scowls at me.
"Those things will **** you, lady."
I pause.
Shocked at the sound.
"That's the plan," I mumble,
and clumsily stride away.
The snow keeps falling
but nothing sticks.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 8:28 PM UTC
You were my skin
My bones
My voice
Every crooked part I let you hold
"I'm gone"
Two words
A knife right through
With practiced precision
Do you know how heavy betrayal is
When it smells like trust?
I'm twisted around our memories
A coil of hands and voices
You left dangling midair
I can't breathe
I can't think
You're everywhere
Inside my chest
In my throat
Gnawing
Twisting
I wanted you to stay
I wanted the safe place
I built inside you to be real
I wanted you
I wanted you
I wanted you
I don't want another beginning
I don't want to fold myself
Into someone else's hands
Just to get shredded again
I wanted everything
And it broke me anyway
I hate it
The way I love you
The way I can’t erase you
The way it cost my sanity
While you carry nothing
I don’t want anyone else
I can’t
I won’t
I can’t go through this again
I won’t survive it
You’re gone
Aug 30, 2025
Aug 30, 2025 at 2:14 PM UTC
You've asked me how can I see a future when love, in all
Its numinous beauty, is waning?
I reply, the immortal stars still shine above the veil of clouds.
You say, why are the salmon swimming to their pools of origin
Only to die as they spawn? Only to die?
I tell you their love is unconditional, like mine.
You ask me did the giant sequoia know it was shelter for the burning grasses
When they walked from the seas? I reply yes they knew.
You question me about the lofty snow cranes that fly over the Himalayas
And I reply by describing
How the priestly flocks, chanting on their mission, honk—
Announcing the mantle steps to the heavens.
You inquire about the elephantine manatees gracing the shallow banks
And wonder if the sea mermaids remember their lives beyond the latitudes
Of capricorn and cancer?
Or you’ve discovered in the wind a new reasoning as to why
The talons of the paired eagles lock in midair as they court?
You want to understand the nimbus garden, ocean slate, of lake Titicaca
Where resides the Andean sea horse gliding above the clouds?
The whales that circle dance in unison collecting krill?
The noetic display of the birds of paradise, the songs of nameless creatures
Playing in the wilderness like a forgotten melody only lovers lips remember?
I want to tell you that true love knows this, that life in its
Prismatic shimmer is all the myriad colours of infinite existence wrapped
In time to the sublime structure of white and bones. I must tell you
That the flower is mighty in its opening, the humming bird is a sorcerer
Who needles ambrosia with vortex wings weaving his way to the Gods.
But I am nothing beside your disbelief which has arrived, before
I can even imagine the sweet awakening, like doom, my shell is the iridescent
Hollow of the one eyed Abalone, discarded in the deep fathoms
Of the ocean pressures.
I swim the tides as you do, investigating
The endless tendril seas,
And in my chest, during the night, I woke up empty,
The only thing treasured, a golden face
Trapped inside my dreams.
— after Neruda
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 2:00 PM UTC