We’re all under her trembling web
But not the prey caught above
Or,
our own shadows preceding
As we so casually into
Blistering night
Tire irons
Or did a branch of a greater cotton wood
Reach out and grasp at me
But I left in thankless saunter
As driftwood would wander
And wind down the river
Looking up at every branch
tied down by relentless roots and thick fractal of foliage
I am not one of you
I am not one of you
 
I was released ancient upstream and long above
So long I am now smooth of river stones
Tirelessly worn
Wood that is no longer tied to any aspect of
Green growth sap honey dew faux white ghost of fall born fruit
The drift wood only IS in dying
I had to bow to warm passing
Turn dry and charcoal and gray
In order that I
Could achieve that release of chlorophyll and free will
It’s beautiful to be bound
Stitched to the rotten blood rich ground
Fecundity, plasma,  ovary, and tributary
 
But why do please so gingerly
I desire to float wild
And be ugly of sublime Graces
That blow kisses like light storm borealis
In the pageant of godless outer space
Where is that aluminum foil blanket?
that keeps arctic paralysis at bay
Keeps traveler subordinate to photosynthesis
If I could feed off reflection of city lights
In the black water that laps so secretly below the thick cape of
What time is it anyway?
How I would have finally caught up with my own element
Have become too drenched to smolder in the fire pit

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Entrar para comentar...
Robert L. Martin
más de 3 años

Your poem is just filled with meaty words and metaphors and passion and clear images and thought provoking philosophy and phrases and everything good.

David Schieres
más de 3 años

Fecundity is an obscene word. I have never seen it used in context. I think. I just looked it up.

David Schieres
más de 3 años

Pretty pretty cool. I just made it to the part where driftwood was remembered. Or worth to mention. I am going to read the rest now.

Berlinn Berlin
más de 3 años

Thank you! And, I completely agree, that's my favorite aspect of poetry- it's ability to change with time and adopt to its audience.

steven t.
más de 3 años

to me your poem expresses for me how in death true beauty escapes the limitations of life's filtering processes...but that's just my first read...i'm sure it will be different the next time i read it...and for me that will be the sign i'm in the presence of great poetry...

Preferido o celebrado por...

Delilah steven t.
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