by Ryan Jesena
Monday, January 14, 2002
Print Save Become a Fan
like this wavy waning moon, slowing down a bit
to listen to some cosmic malady. yesterday,
the spring blossomed with passion all over
the bronze meadows. love in spoonfuls of
pale early morning pancakes. sky softly
whispering to the greenest of the trees,
folding their leaflets over. a tear drying up
on my face, chopping the fear that lies
beneath like rusted scissors.
from infinite troubles. grasping the tardy gust
of her breath with hexagonal delight, and
the trust of veiled tendrils. she can carry
on like a little child in a whirlwind of a
desert palette. there will be nothing to stop
the sun from coming out today. they have
seen us all, fiddling with our codecs,
waiting to trample
the fruits of our struggle;
the jagged icicle
of an itching dream. we have traveled
to foreign places, with vanishing landscapes.
she was a beautiful sway, in her form-fitting ways,
so willing to swallow the fears that fill our eyes
like mathematical constants. blue angel.
love is all around you like a halo. closer in
perfect delight. grabbing her near to the
light, clutching on to her talons and sour
apples, that fly into simple patterns. matching
her blue gaze
with a tender yellow uprising. my pen
dancing around like an epee from a sly swashbuckler.
shifting consonants and vowels into
the architecture of the moment. holding on tightly
between the margins of this poem before
it dashes off to the stratosphere.