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vircapio gale Mar 2014
the Nephelaen mediatrix sings
fating an ambrosia synchrony of tones

she volves her telic tepals ripe:
areoles ensorcelled under alate nomes

she heralds petrichoric quench
with nova womb
to subtend violet ray

in stellar bloom, noema web:
sensate fontanels
in spite of dessication's wrench
are concresced atmospheric balms
of evanescent nervure, calyces
displayed to sky-crossed home,
unpillared and ovoid







.
'the nephelai (or Nephelae)
were the Okeanid nymphs of clouds and rain who rose up from the earth-encircling river Okeanos bearing water to the heavens' ( theoi.com ).
"The Nephelean Period"
is a perhaps outdated term used in solar or geologic timescales, to mark when solar nebulae emerge distinct from Giant Molecular Clouds. it ends when a proto-sun is formed.
mediatrix : a female mediator

volve : "consider" "roll about the mind"
telic: having an end or goal
tepal: contains both sepals and petals of a flower
areoles: (on cacti) are clearly visible bumps out of which grow clusters of spines, buds and branches
ensorcell: to bring under a spell
alate: winged
nome (nomos), in Greek music, originally ‘tune’, ‘melody’; the word was applied especially to a type of melody invented, it was said, by Terpander as a setting for texts taken from epic poetry, which could be played on the flute or on the lyre.

petrichor: the scent after long awaited rain, or the oil released after a drought's end
noema: an object of consciousness
concresce: to grow together
calyx: bot. the outermost group of floral parts, the sepals; anat. zool., a cuplike part.
ovoid: egg-shaped

my apologies for the obscure words. it's a vice and a penchant i'm learning to come to terms with. any thoughts are appreciated
the Nov 2017
nightfall awoken by lit lanterns
passing the artery of hopelessness
going by thru diverse passersby yard
all and sundry yon has their souls

never acknowledged.. remains tranquil
paths of untold concrete buildings
******* to subsiding ground of dolor
determine their everlasting ailment

agile, like a hummingbird, i flow
a graph of functions to drive by
reconcile with the ailing truth
gleaming concern was never examined

i don't discern anything besides myself
i see nothing, like a light of speed
i'm roaming to nowhere, unfamiliar places
yet extant, become subtend with one another
disclaimer, just some thoughts from my late night bike ride
Dave Williams Nov 2015
it's not alive
it isn't scared
it wasn't what
you thought it was

it isn't right
it can't be wrong
it keeps you up
it makes you strong

it makes you rich
it makes you cry
it mends the stitch
it plays along

it grinds it's teeth
it doesn't care
it hides beneath
it tends to glare

it stays in tune
it keeps in time
it guards the moon
it's in its prime

it knows no end
it has no start
it's arms subtend
your shallow heart

it disappears
it bears the scars
it isn't what
you thought it was

— The End —