A fever of gobsmacked days and nights...
a swollen confusion from listening alertly
to a whispered voice only imagined...
That voice is drifting from an unknown shore,
where night trees consider tremulous waves
rippling below gestures of an unmonthed moon.
It could be a vague sketch by Edvard Munch
come to transient life in the pigment of being.
Sometimes the world has too many worlds.
But strange eyes drift to meet strange eyes.
Ventures on winds of dissolving then making.
But it's not real and could never gain traction
on the underside of lightfall or inside a clock.
So drink to things that have no explanation.
Drink to drunkenness, to all unburdening.
But......
A breath felt. From a corner of knowing.
The air is moving from a gift of knowing.
Listen!
It sounds almost real....
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This was a wonderful journey. An unmonthed moon! I climbed up the crafted rope and fell softly and completed in the extension
ReplyDelete"almost real...."
My brother in law has a tatoo that reads "Live a life that demands an explanation." Imagine living life beyond one!
Thank you! I kinda think "unmonthed moon" was a cool language discovery. I like it when that happens. I have a poet friend on Facebook who doesn't care much for my poems, for my lyrical style. He's all about conveying soberly worded truths about life. Which is an admirable approach. But I have a hypothesis that sometimes language itself, sensitively handled, can deliver a form of truth from its own mysterious realm. Just from the alchemy of words themselves as words.
ReplyDeleteGosh...I hope that didn't sound too conceited or self-justifying. :)
You police yourself too much I think. Sound conceited if you wish (and for the record I do not think it did). It is your voice. It should be loud here where consequence is a myth.
ReplyDeleteI LOVE new language discovery. Where the 2 + 2 words no longer equal four...but something otherwise un-mathmatical!