a new poem

entities multiplied past all necessity

The silence smells of the river
and charred oxen. Yesterday I dis-
covered severe strangers, misbegotten

one became the pleasure of being

above the treeline in the grey
bouldershade that countenances

one’s becoming was divineness

their quiet. Their speechless words.
They recite that forever story—

the strange heart remote, self-conceived
— and I wither in rainy breezes

one’s being became divineness

when they fan
my solemn, long, mad blaze. I possess.

one was the madness of becoming

I’d wished for breath, a silence
magnificent, exquisite, useless,
a becoming blue blur. Yet this, this air.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s