||end of line||
née poem\
squeezed between sleeps
and arteries
bow and stern, beatings
a pastiche of demons
the arrangement of flowers
when one would be enough
in tethered decay--
the collapse of the pivot,
thus tottered on
picking pockets
adroitly
between isles
of oiled bodies glistening in hot sun
||end of line||
Say the packet held no lovers,
that a world crashed at the end of sea
spent drift alluvia--
lingered on, diurnal between sleeps,
occurred. Ruined-though charmed begetting
leaves curled assuming the hand protected the chest--
and empty caverns beneath
||end of line||
Author notes
Note title from:
from Edmund Spencer.
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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yes of course...
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Nice!
The broken syntax mirrors the twoer. The old language, or / and style / aesthetics, mirrors the ruins.
Enjoyed.
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Edmund draws circles this way
starts and closes the message with an 'end of line'
like bottled hopes - adrift in the ocean
at the bottom
the fish made lanterns out of their own bodies
so they can write...
no one reads though
there
in the depth
reading is not needed
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Well I think it is pretty marvelous -- reading it out loud is great and the whole thing echoes in my mind just like I've heard it before in another life.
I let myself fall in and I found myself buoyed by a sense of knowing -- innocent though too - its those flowers that do that I think.
Many many layers and interpretations to be had, impressionistic as ever for a Lute poem.
BNLPE
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