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40612Poem

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  • write3chairs
    Mar 1, 2009
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      I was rather astonished to receive this poem from a good friend
      yesterday. The astonishment was because the theme so closely matches
      some of the themes here in the group lately.

      Jennifer

      ---

      it dreams in sleep, closed eyes rolling
      behind eyelids—it knows no justice,
      no love or blind illusions, it sees only hearts
      beating softly across long fields without end.
      it knows no boundaries, there is nowhere
      it ends, there is nowhere—it begins,
      undulating, rolling like mossy rocky hills,
      these mysteries hiding from sight,
      always at the corners of our eyes,
      beckoning us to follow them, to play
      new games with them, to hold new rings
      for them. these blues, these eyes
      each stone each morsel of heart,
      each beating, pounding moment,
      i would sign my name in blood
      for your torment to end. i would spin
      my world into muck, watch as we wash
      ourselves into some endless vacuum
      into the holy temple of fire.
      in dreams, in sleep, closed eyes rolling
      behind those lashes, the whip strikes flesh,
      smoke billows from fires and covers cave walls.
      i remember this life. i remember all the lives
      that ever came before. the veneer is crackled
      and spun into melted threads of silver,
      slivers of gauzy wing material, flesh and metal
      mixing within each other. your bowl
      made of flesh, this vessel made of loyalty
      i came to conquer, watching softly, steadily
      the easing of pain comes in and i think
      i think there is nothing else to think.
      flowers grow where you step,
      flowers sprout from the earth
      and scent the air with spices,
      cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla, passion.
      i, holding my hand, i standing alone
      on this magnificent shore, jagged stones
      stab the sky as waves cleave themselves
      on their crowns, eddies whirl and jostle
      flotsam and foam, the sea is a lover
      a pearl lodged in my heart that won't be removed,
      look yonder—a gull coming to wrap its wings
      around my neck, look further, a flock of them
      wrapping themselves around my neck.
      i would like to tell a story, but i can no longer speak.
      i would like to cry a lullaby, but i am too weak.
      i stand upon the shoulders, the palaces fall
      to the ground, this dust and rubble, this mess of nerves
      each thing falling from one form to the next.

      (prodigal elf)
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