"suspiring" poems
Ignorances innate wove curtain of veils
Cut usunder heretofore obscuring
Bodhicittas valedictory wintry gloom torn
Of enlightenments will factioning the
Silenced mammonish city kingdom truced
As the wings of Azrael clinch
Earthly thistles; monolithic raiments
Deposed Hull, Hell and Halifax parcae
The willowing of light unfettering Fenrirs
Durance, howling aconite psalms suspiring
Suffrage relict paving with mewed stars
Redemptions tithed talents bequeathed
Of Heavens sinister prayer burning
Acinta dusts thine ashes threading
The wilful sword of Gods destruction.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 8:44 AM UTC
Under the eaves,
the jangling
clanking raindrops,
asked a slate,
"Listen carefully,
did i break something",
was it a fresh surprising dream,
or a fragmented mood,
the slate wordless,
suspiring.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 1:27 PM UTC
From the first, the fluid-filled sacs of stars,
The yolk of yellow lightning and oily rain,
Then the placental storm, birth-giver of roads and oxen loads,
Witch towers made from silk hair and the peasant sucklings of plague,
Whelped there by the milk of the river Arno, by turns pacified or stern.
The Dark Ages is a storm nesting in the sky, built by posthumous stares,
Piece by piece, a raven’s birth from eyes and saliva of roads and rivers.
Of the woman who gave birth, the sway of leaves where once fell hair,
Only her lips hover in the air of warm sun,
Like a fountain in the bare palace courtyard
Suspiring, flowing, extolling…
Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 7:16 PM UTC
Joséphine inspires faith
that even God envies.
Her voice creases the canvas of the sky,
her wink commands the storm.
Joséphine looks to the moon
to see her reflection.
Her suspiring imaginations dance
in ripples of conscious thought.
Joséphine grasps in her hands
a stray breath of Creation.
Her eyes capture the light of dawn and dusk.
Her halcyon sigh underpins reality.
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 1:34 AM UTC
"WE therefore commit his body to the deep, to be turned into
corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body..."
I am hundred years dead
And the water is dread wide —
Hunch I my head against the wind
Straight from the shoulder, H/E angst,
But goes my algorithm awry —
Memory nipped my insanity yesternight...
... ... Mortified right I was;
Ain't cotton to lovers for years...no...
Could slip they my pious sleep away
By a little sleight of hand...
Love is a briny deep, but sets at the shore,
Vaporizing the Vistavision — and
How all the dreams that sound subdued,
Not to be assayed and to be limited not,
Follow the spells of fatuity's skill sorcerous —
From the cradle to the pyre
Chased I the broken velvet sky; let
The sacred shudder to ask what toxins they contain;
Eventide breaks from pain to fountain pen,
Count I thy decrepit blessings —
Brain crying dearth,
heart...peopled by void,
soul acting out an enigma,
shadow wounds up to sleep —
Thou water not wet...
Their carousal is on a carousel ride —
Awaiting my high the next low tide...
Come thick with me and be my thin,
We shall die down, but hang in;
The sun liar mounts and rains my croon,
Spy not quicksand, we pink moon —
My, my, a thousand-spring-dead - I!
The balloon did spring not a leak; still
I'm suspiring time —
Mar 21, 2021
Mar 21, 2021 at 5:37 AM UTC