Monday, March 12, 2012

A Reflection

I seam a visitor’s room
where a passing wakefulness goes—

a word sense of Romeo
Juliet feels in his name—
that sound working
for her, dripping
its essence on her inner
meanings, her
wherefore art thous,

becoming her trans
parent daily agendas torn open by happiness,
a purity of name-action
digging her well, knowing:

Water’s here somewhere, a shape—
some uncreated love unmet—becoming
the heart at the start, mirroring this well we face,

this jar of pouring stones, a reflection

heaping a mother vision that maintains Its echo
in the clench of her voice, her
sound burning an emptiness
more beautiful than life—

Obliterating It to create It—

This blind world squatting—
a beggar in the road,
a great soul hiding
this city of strangers, surrendering—

The fear-language of Its themes cracking open, float away

sorties clearing the tower of its priest—blooming
where stars rise, spinning every night—blown
by a bewildered god, kissing his flute—

Feeling notes that breathe this need, sweeping his floor
deaf to a silence that won’t break.

No comments:

Post a Comment