at the breaking of the silver thread,
the last umbilical,
soul lays the body down
sleepily, violently awake – chance,
circumstance – what matter?
and light as helium
relieved of a burden
but not of habit, yet to know
the hollowness of regret
- must we die to understand
the nature of living? -
gives the nod to an experience
driven by a machine pumping
flesh entity, throbbing identity
scratching feuding
till inevitability overcame
and if time’s still a measure
and a small feeling remains,
a smile, perhaps, for a stiff
and horizontal slab of meat
cold and olding in cloth
slotted neat in a lacquered box
drenched in fresh violets and tears
blissfully unaware what those left
do: consign to ground or sprinkle
on a river wind.
Not upon a time, then what?
differences argue their paths:
nothing, an O lowercasing
in others’ memory
a friend waiting
to introduce an idyll estate
cashmere soft cottonwool cush,
silky safe endlessly awake
with views of itchy mortality
– who wouldn’t settle for that?
a fifth season arranging new
greenness and moments of birth,
now with the spirits of lakes, heights,
the stirs beneath leaves, a seed
awaiting the patter of rain
expansion beyond dimensions
and laws as galaxies push out,
a thoughtyear spectrum
instantaneously equal
in the company of behemoth star,
white dwarf, pulsar, quark – bottom,
top, up, down, charmed and strange –
energetic as nobles are inert,
sanguine to suck of black holes
thought of every thought
all thought here there apart
part and whole in universal pulse
on the way to ends and starts
that never are
Once Upon a Time…
Click here to post or read comments.
|
|
Share
Print
Save
Author Tracker
